Fortune Favours the Brave
by magicandmess
Summary: It's her only chance to get her job back. She must denounce all her friends and join a group who've tormented and dominated the WWE for months. If she wants to wrestle again, she has to Evolve.
1. Chapter 1 - Do or Die

**A/N: Please, please excuse me for removing the other thirteen chapters. Since returning to university, I've realised that this story is not my best work, though it is definitely my favourite thing that I have written. So, with that being said, I am currently reworking it; I will be uploading the chapters (and continuing the story) as I go, editing it so that I can put my name to it and be proud of it. I hope people who have read this story previously don't mind waiting a little longer for some new chapters (or even that they enjoy the changes I make), but also hope that any new readers will love it as much as I do. Thanks for being understanding, Steph!**

 **As always, please leave feedback - whether you enjoy it or not, you want to see something else happen or you have thoughts on a particular scene, I love knowing what people who read my work think!**

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It hadn't registered at first: she had been too lost in her thoughts about Matt, unable to make sense of what he'd just done and what he'd caused. In fact, she had been halfway up the ramp, eyes wet with tears, when the realisation hit her. As the fans chanted her name, screaming and begging her not to go, she paused, her whole body shaking when she turned to look back at the ring, the bright lights blinding her momentarily. What did she have if she didn't have her job? Her entire world had been the squared circle for the past few years; she didn't remember her life without it. Yet here she was, her whole world ripped from under her in the space of one match. Had he planned it all along? He must have. That was the only answer – no doubt he had concocted the plan with Bischoff himself, the two of them huddled together, plotting how best to truly destroy her.

A sob racked her body and any attempt at hiding her tears was forgotten as she found herself openly crying, wiping at her face with the back of her hand, mascara smearing across her cheek. As the strobe lights and bright colours of the audience merged into one big, watery blur, she turned and stepped through the curtain. It had been her last time in front of the WWE fans and she'd gone out as a joke, humiliated by the man she loved and her very identity stolen from her when Bischoff had fired her. She was nothing, now. Nobody.

It took all of Lita's strength to hold herself up, leaning against one of the large, metal containers backstage, the chrome cool against her skin as she tried to force herself to breathe. She'd never taken a panic attack before but it was the only deduction she could come to in that moment. The walls seemed to close around her, her heart pounding mercilessly against her chest and it was all she could do not to collapse, grasping onto the cold metal. As she struggled alone in the dark gorilla position, the stage hands who waited there cast worried glances at the now-former diva.

"Is she okay?" one of them whispered, not wanting to get too close. "We can't have her like this – we need the area clear. The Rico and Venis match is coming up. Go get Stratus. She can take her back to the locker room to get her stuff."

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The soothing voice of Trish Stratus seemed to bring her round, a warm hand rubbing circles on her back as the Canadian promised everything would be okay. It took a few seconds for Lita to gather her surroundings, to realise that somehow Trish had did as the stage hands asked and got her back to the divas locker room. "Can you hear me?" Trish asked, and judging from the look on her face, it wasn't the first time she had asked that question. Lita nodded, catching a glimpse of her ashen, mascara stained face in one of the many mirrors around the room. "Are you okay? Do you want some water? Anything? You had me worried for a minute…"

She knew she should answer Trish, to tell her that she was fine – the crease between the blonde's eyes was a tell-tale sign that she wasn't kidding about being worried – yet she couldn't bring herself to reassure the other woman. "Why me?" she asked, her voice hoarser than usual. "What did I ever do to deserve that? I wasn't being selfish… I just… I thought…." She had thought he was going to propose, that they were going to get back together and everything would be perfect, just like they'd been before her injury. She'd been so certain. Taking a deep breath, Lita pushed to her feet which struggled to support her weight. "I need to go. I need to find Matt and I need to… I need to go." Reaching for her leather duffel bag, she stuffed her belongings into it as quickly as she could, ignoring Trish's protests while tugging on her jacket and reaching for her dog's carry-bag. McKenzie whined as Lita hauled him upwards, the diva trying to soothe the dog before heading for the door. Trying to leave, she did her best to pull herself out of her best friend's grasp. "I can't, Trish. I can't. Let me go." With a final tug, Lita fled the locker room.

Denial was usually the easiest step to take when faced with such devastating news, yet it was near impossible to convince herself that she'd got it wrong, no matter how many times she repeated it in her mind. It had to be some sort of mistake – Matt wouldn't hurt her like this. He loved her. He'd always loved her… Shaking her head, she made her way through the winding, grey corridors, avoiding the eye contact of stage hands, EMTs and wrestlers alike; she refused to cry, to let people see that weakness again. She'd shown enough of that on the ramp, after all. No, she had to leave the building with her head held high – whatever this was, it would get fixed. She just had to find Matt. She had been so lost in her thoughts, in her silent mantra that she would fix things, that she barely registered the sneering face of Triple H coming into view.

"Lita, Lita, Lita…" Hunter drawled, arms wide as he drew nearer. "What's this I hear about you being fired?" Naturally, he did nothing alone, and as she moved to side-step him, her way was obscured by Dave Batista, the large man taking up more of the corridor than a human had any right to and Lita flinched, taking a step back as she craned her neck to look up at Evolution's animal. "So, I was thinking, what with you being out of a job and all… I'd give you another chance to earn that dollar I offered you last week."

"Screw you, Hunter," she responded, hitching the strap of her bag higher onto her shoulder and making a second attempt at moving past Batista.

"For a dollar?" Hunter replied, Batista eliciting a low laugh as he moved aside watching her every movement. "I'd want change back…"

She wanted to retaliate, to scream at him that he was an asshole, that she hated him and to beat her fists into his face, dig her nails into his skin and make him bleed, just to make him feel half as painful as she felt, but she knew it was no use. There was no use fighting guys like him and now that Stone Cold was gone, there was nothing stopping him beating the shit out of her. Granted, she would have preferred that to the verbal beatdown Matt had handed her but rather than cause a scene, rather than fight, she sighed, turning her back on the former World Heavyweight Champion and, doing her best to ignore the profanities he called after her, she headed for the front door. Her shoulders slumped as she pushed open the first set of double doors and the diva swallowed, terrified that the tears would start again.

Rounding the final corner, Lita let out a frustrated groan as, once more, her path was blocked. This time by Christian. "Please, not right now…" she began, her tolerance levels for the Canadian already pushed to their limits.

"Where are you going? Where are you going to, huh?"

Was he serious? Lita's hands fisted in her hair as she struggled to believe what she was hearing. "Where am I going? I'm fired. I'm leaving the building. I have no boyfriend, I have no job. Are you trying to rub it in?" Once again, she found herself wanting to punch the man in front of her, though she didn't raise a hand. She was defeated and all she wanted to do was get out of this building and do something – anything! – to convince her that this was a dream. She had to speak to Matt, yet it was the last thing she wanted to do. She wanted to speak to Vince McMahon, to demand her job back, but that was out of the question. Everything was out of the question, and her mind swam until she could barely think.

"Wow – no. No, nothing like that," Christian assured her, raising his hands, and shaking his head. He sounded sincere enough, and she was tempted to believe him but after the night she'd had, she wasn't all that keen in believing men. "Look, hear me out, okay? I've been thinking – you heard Bischoff earlier, right? He owes me one. I was part of his Survivor Series team. He gave me a favour and if I want to use that to get your job back…" His voice softened, and the wicked glint which usually played in his eyes was nowhere to be seen.

"For me? You'd do that…for me?" It was difficult to believe and she was determined not to get her hopes up, but she couldn't help the almost begging tone which slipped into her voice.

"For you." Extending his hand to take her duffel bag, Christian offered her a small smile – not the one she was used to, not the one that the world saw. This smile was small, timid, gentle. Sincere. "Come on, we'll go talk to Bischoff, we'll settle things. Okay?" Taking the bag from her, Christian leaned down, scratching McKenzie behind his ear.

Seeing the way the dog reacted, leaning in to the Canadian's hand, she smiled. She had always been a firm believer that dogs had intuition – maybe that explained why Kenz had peed in Matt's shoes so often – and watching the way her beloved pet was behaving, she couldn't help the small feeling of relief which washed over her. "Okay," she responded finally, any other words failing her, before leading the way back through the hallways to Eric Bischoff's office.

"And, you know, if you need anything – a shoulder, an ear, anything – I'm here for you, yeah?" She knew it was too good to be true, that Christian had to have some sort of motive, but she had no other option – he was the only one who could get her job back. Nodding her head in thanks, she offered him a smile in return. If he really could pull this off, if Bischoff was forced to give her her job back, she would be eternally grateful; she would owe him everything. But owing Christian everything? It was still preferable to being jobless.

Knocking almost timidly on Eric Bischoff's door, she had all but forgotten about Matt Hardy – that was a problem for another day, and not one anyone but herself could fix – and when she heard a call of 'Come in!' from within the room, her mind was on just one thing: her job. Christian slipped passed her, entering the room first, Lita entering as the General Manager of Raw closed over his phone. "Ah, Lita, just the person I was looking for," he began, a grin tugging unnaturally at his face. "Now I know why you're here, Christian, and let me tell you, it's too late. I don't want to hear it. You cannot use your favour. Not tonight." As Christian exploded in protest, Bischoff raised a hand, directing his words to Lita. "I was just trying to call you. It seems I might have been a little, well, a little harsh when I fired you."

Exchanging incredulous glances with Christian who fell silent instantly, Lita raised an eyebrow; there had to be some sort of catch here. Bischoff was the epitome of harsh – he had made a career out of it, after all – and there was no way he was going to have a sudden change of heart now. "Go on…" she replied, watching him with great suspicion.

"It seems to me that, whether I like it or not, you have a certain fan base, a certain something you bring to the women's division that I wouldn't want to see go to another company," he continued, an air of arrogance following him as he spoke. "And so I was thinking that, perhaps, you could continue wrestling for the WWE. Under one condition. Now, it is my way or the high way, Lita, remember that. You have one chance and one chance only. All I ask," The room fell silent, Lita watching him with wild eyes as Christian looked on, breath held. It was obvious that whatever he was about to suggest was not a question. It was do or die. "is that you manage Evolution."


	2. Chapter 2 - Deal With The Devil(s)

**A/N: Thank you to all the readers so far, both old and new! It really does mean a lot, and hopefully everyone who's read has enjoyed. But a special mention to _jcott3_ – to answer your question, yes! This fanfiction was up round about 2005, which I started when I was 13-14 but I deleted it maybe two years or so ago and took down my account. But last year I found my (very badly written) notes, downloaded a subscription to the WWE network and the rest is history. The story is quite different than it was previously, but I absolutely loved the concept of Lita working with Evolution and, like yourself, it's an era of wrestling that I hold dear to my heart so I _had_ to rewrite it, even if the majority of readers and writers on here have very little knowledge or recollection of it.**

 **Anyway, please leave any feedback any of you might have! I love reading your comments and can't wait to get to work on editing up the other chapters. I already have a few _special_ moments that I can't wait to change! As always, I hope you enjoy this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.**

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The spluttered cough which left Christian broke the silence, and Lita watched as he gawped at their General Manager. She knew the shock on his face must have been echoed on her own. She'd known it was too good to be true. When she'd entered the room, she'd allowed herself to think that there was a chance; that even the stipulation Bischoff was offering wouldn't be that bad. She'd never thought for one moment that it would be something like this. It was a cruel trick – he knew she'd never say yes, and had allowed her to get her hopes up. But as Christian threw question after question at Eric Bischoff, Lita fell into silence, staring at the muted television that was playing in the background. Evolution themselves illuminated the screen, hammering away at the World Heavyweight Champion in their three-on-one match-up. "Now, Christian, I'm sure our friend here has a lot of questions she wants to ask about my offer and I can't help but think she'd feel more comfortable without you in the room. Now, if you'd like to step outside…" Eric began, motioning towards the door and snapping Lita from her trance-like state.

"Lita…" Christian began, touching her arm, concern etched all over his face.

"It's fine," she said, though it was anything but. "Look, I'll give you a call later, yeah?"

"You can't seriously be considering this. It's worse than being fired," the blond man said, brows knitting as he handed over her bag. "Lita, tell me you're not actually thinking about doing this."

It took all her might to shrug her shoulders, avoiding eye contact as she swallowed thickly. She wasn't considering it. She wasn't.

Her silence taken as her answer, Christian made to leave the room, only stopping when the redhead spoke his name. "Christian," she said, his head whipping round at break-neck speed. "Please don't tell Trish about this. Not yet. Not until I've made up my mind." There shouldn't have been a mind to make up, she knew. She knew that, she did, but as Batista squared up to Goldberg, she couldn't help the niggling voice of doubt.

As the door closed in his face, it was hard not to register the look of hurt and confusion Christian wore, even as she tried to avoid his eye. "So…" Eric began, grinning almost maniacally. There was something about the look on his face, the way the grin never quite met his eyes and the way his jaw twitched, which left Lita ill at ease. He looked just as strained as she did, just as uncomfortable, and something told her that this little 'solution' wasn't one he had come up with by himself. But that could only mean… Her train of thought was interrupted by Eric's cell phone, the tinny ringtone echoing through the room. "If you'll excuse me," he said, giving her no chance to excuse him as he followed Christian in his exit from the room.

Alone in the room, her attentions turned once again to the screen, where Randy Orton had vaulted over the top rope, tagging himself into the match. It was hard to look away from. He had been a nobody before Evolution. In fact, besides one or two mentions of him with Stacy during Trish's calls to the redhead, she could remember very little about him. Yet here he was, exchanging blows with the World Heavyweight Champion. Batista, too, she realised, had made little impact on her until Evolution. Evolution who, by the looks of things, were launching a vicious three-on-one beat down. They worked as a team, she noted, watching Goldberg take the RKO, followed by the Batista Bomb and then, what it had always been about, the Pedigree. It was like a pack of animals, each of them taking their turn while Ric cheered them on from the ringside. Watching as Goldberg was lined up for the Pedigree, Lita felt her mouth dry up. She couldn't work with Triple H. That man had humiliated her in the very ring she got fired in. He was awful…

And yet there was something almost enviable about the four of them, that sense of togetherness they seemed to share – something she hadn't felt since the early days of Team Extreme, when everyone had been singing from the same hymn sheet - and, she couldn't deny it, that elevation the faction had given Orton and Batista… It seemed so tempting, given her last couple of matches, and her hands grew clammy, her heart racing. That was, of course, until the bell rang. As the match ended, Evolution pounced, the younger members grabbing at Goldberg's arms, holding him in position as Triple H headed off to get a weapon. _No,_ she thought, snapping to her senses. How could she have been so stupid? Grabbing her bag and her dog-carry, she shook her head. She couldn't fraternise with that sort of people. She couldn't. They were vile. They were amoral. And there was absolutely nothing they could give her that would make working with them worth it. Not even a job.

She had expected Christian to be standing outside, waiting for her to make her decision yet, throwing the door open, she was met with an empty corridor, the Canadian man having retreated to his locker room, no doubt to tell all to Jericho. Muttering to her dog, Lita left the makeshift office and began the descent through the cold, grey corridors once more. "You were supposed to bring back the gold, kid. No one said anything about this," the unmistakeable voice of Triple H rang through the corridors, alerting Lita to their presence long before they came into view.

"And I will. I have. It's just a different kind of gold," there was a distinct lack of confidence in the usually cocky 'Legend Killer's voice as he replied, and Lita stopped in her tracks, listening to what they had to say. "Come on, Trips – don't doubt me, here. I got this. I promise, this will be huge for Evolution." As they rounded the corner, Lita's hands shook. Was it fear? Anticipation? She couldn't be sure. If they had wanted her to be their manager, she had nothing to fear – right? They wanted her. They did – they had to, considering Eric's uneasiness. But why?

"And there she is," Hunter laughed, clapping his hands together. His words dripped with sarcasm, making Lita feel like a small child, mocked by the school bully. "Our new manager. Were you on your way to come find us and celebrate our win?" How could she work with this man? They despised each other. There was no way he had asked for her to be their manager. Not a chance. "Well?" He prodded, as her eyes flickered to Ric Flair, grinning like the cat who'd got the cream.

"I wasn't aware that it was procedure to celebrate three able-bodied men beating down someone with a broken ankle, actually. If anything, the fact that it took three of you should be something to be embarrassed about…." She shouldn't have opened her mouth, she should have walked away – what could they do, after all? It wasn't as though she was even employed in the company anymore and she wasn't about to accept Eric Bischoff's proposal now, that was for sure.

Batista bristled at her words and, though she hated to admit it, she flinched slightly. A man so large, so imposing… He could snap her neck like a twig if he saw fit and, really, she didn't know enough about him to say he wouldn't. "Now listen here, Red – "

Ric Flair smoothly interrupted Hunter, clapping a hand to his chest and stepping in, "Now, Champ, Lita's had a rough night. She's been dumped by Hardy, she's lost her job…It's been a tough night by anyone's standards – she doesn't know what she's saying," he said, fixing her with a look that told her to stay quiet, that he had this handled.

It was him, she thought. It had to be – he had brought her to Raw, once upon a time, the first female lottery pick. He had asked for her – no, he had demanded – for her to be their manager. It was the only way. But why? Lost in her realisation, she had no time to inform the four men that she knew exactly what she was saying and that, technically, Triple H had no championship and, therefore, that nickname was redundant. In fact, by the time she'd opened her mouth to respond, the clicking of Bischoff's dress shoes on the concrete flooring had drawn closer.

"Ah, you're all here. Wonderful. Now, ah, I think we'd prefer to do this in my office, no?" There was a nervous quality to him now, one that seemed to arrive every time Evolution was in his presence. He hurried forward, directing the traffic in the opposite direction from which Lita had come and feeling a hand push her towards the office she stiffened, rushing ahead to avoid being touched again, not wanting to know which of the four men had deigned to put a hand on her.

As soon as Ric closed the door behind them, Lita realised the gravity of the situation. Did she have a choice in the matter? If her only options were to manage Evolution or leave the WWE, it seemed like there wasn't much choice at all. Both ideas were equally repugnant. They were evil – they'd hurt so many of her friends and colleagues over the past few months and, seemingly, without any remorse. They had electrocuted Goldust without a second thought, for heaven's sake… How could people behave like that? And yet there was that nagging voice once more, that curious voice which wondered 'what if'? "Why?" she asked, ignoring Randy who had made himself at home on Bischoff's sofa and was regarding her lazily from his seat, and Batista who had perched himself on the arm of the sofa, paying more attention to the photos on the wall than he did to her. "Why me?"

"It's only natural," Ric replied, his voice calm and smooth. "Look at you – you're the top of your game. Just back from that neck injury and already a force to be reckoned with."

It was bullshit. Mindless flattery which would get him nowhere, and Lita interrupted before he could continue. "I had my ass handed to me last week with Terri, I lost last night and I was humiliated in the middle of the ring tonight – what part of that is top of my game? I'd really like to know."

"You have a potential that most divas never will. They could never have that – that 'je ne sai quoi' that you do. But we see that, don't we boys?" Hunter, for his sins, did little to pretend that he cared about anything she possessed, but Orton and Batista nodded eagerly, answering to Ric like lap dogs. "You're the best. And you could still be better, if you join us. We could make things so much easier for you. You want a rematch for that title? You got it. You want Hardy dealt with? Just say the word. You could have everything you ever wanted, and all you have to do is agree to manage us."

God, he was good, she thought, eyes boring into the older man's. It was as much as she would have expected, all the promises he would make, and yet actually hearing them, it made them so much more real. "And what would I have to do?" she asked, the words leaving her lips before she'd realised, and Ric grinned in response, instantly making her feel dirty and wrong.

"Like I said – you become one of us. You come to the ring with us, you participate in what we do, and if that means taking the occasional shot, then so be it," he replied, voice simple as though he'd asked her to pass the salt. "But in return, we'll have your back. There'll always be one of us to make sure you're safe, that you get what you need and that you're treated like the best."

Her stomach felt uneasy, her mouth dry as she sighed. They really did make it sound so appealing; everything she wanted, everything she'd worked hard for, just handed over to her, protection from people like Hardy and Molly…hell, even Bischoff wouldn't be able to touch her. And yet the images of Trish Stratus, of Lilian Garcia, of Christian and all her other friends came to mind, each looking as disappointed as the last. They wouldn't like it. They would hate her. Everyone hated Evolution; they stood alone and they didn't need anyone else. As a fan favourite, a popular girl backstage, she couldn't do that to herself. She would lose her friends for sure and she wasn't sure that she was ready to resign herself to such a lonely life, with no one for company but the four men who had attacked half the locker room. "How long do I have to decide?"

With a glance at his watch, it was Eric Bischoff who spoke. "About sixty seconds. The clock's ticking, Lita. Now, do you want your job back or not?"

"What about Christian?"

"What about him?"

"When we came here it was to ask for my job back – he was going to use his favour."

Eric laughed, his shoulders raising in a shrug as he replied, "See that's the thing with favours – there's no binding contract. I'm not legally obligated to grant it. And so, I see no other option. It's Evolution…or nothing."

And so, she was right – there was no other option, she would be choosing one hell over the other – yet his words had sparked something in her. "I want a legally binding contract," she said, jaw tilted defiantly. "Before I agree to anything, I want all of us to sign a contract. One that…one that means I still get to wrestle. – I won't just be a manager like Stacy. And it needs to say that you can't do anything to me." She said, jabbing a finger in Hunter's direction. "And that he can't hit on me or…" Randy was the object of her distrust on that occasion, and the youngest member of the faction yawned, muttering that 'she should be so lucky'. "Or that you can't hang me out to dry. You can't leave me out there alone or – or let anyone hurt me. A match is a match but if I'm ambushed or hurt… You have to step in, just like you would for any of the others." The words were rolling off her tongue with ease as she listed her demands, demands she hadn't even known to think of seconds before. "You can't hurt me and you can't let others." She finalised. If she was going to sell her soul to the devil, she was at least going to get some sort of benefits from it.

"Let's get one thing straight, Lita, you don't get to make stipulations here," Hunter said, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped closer and Lita moved away, McKenzie bristling as he came in contact with Batista's knee; not quite enough to hurt him. Fussing with her dog, she ignored his words; there was no need to pay him any attention, not when Ric stepped in once more.

"You know, Champ, I think a contract is a good idea," he said, almost everyone in the room's eyebrows raising. "That way she gets what she wants and we get to keep her in check; make our own demands. Nothing too much," he added, turning to Lita with a nod. "Just that you would have to accompany at least one of us to the ring, that you would really be one of us and that you wouldn't shirk out of helping us out, if needs be. You would owe us as much as we owe you. It's just best to get that all on paper. We could have Hunt's lawyer draw it up and be ready to sign by Monday.

Lita's eyes scanned the room – Orton and Batista were watching her, eager to see her reaction, while Bischoff looked on fearfully. Hunter stepped forward once more, offering his hand. "So, what do you say? Are you in?"

They would hate her. Her family, her friends, her fans.

But what other choice did she have?

"I'm in." She replied, her heart racing as she shook his hand, ignoring the relieved sigh which left Bischoff or the fact that Orton was telling Batista to 'pay up' over the bet they'd made – no doubt that she would or wouldn't join.

"Meet us at the Hilton hotel at six pm on Monday. There'll be a room booked under your name," Hunter replied, his voice brisk and business-like as he motioned to the rest of his faction to leave. One by one they filed out, Ric first, followed by Batista and Orton, who assured her she'd made the right choice. "And one last thing - next week? Try not to look like you just rolled in off the street…"


	3. Chapter 3 - Signed, Sealed, Delivered

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry it's been a couple of weeks since I updated - life has been _hectic_ lately and I just haven't had a chance to beta this chapter until now. I'm thoroughly enjoying reworking these first few chapters before making any of the major changes and it really is great to see some new readers! I hope everyone is loving reading this as much as I do writing it! Please leave any feedback, you guys know I love to hear from you! Thanks for reading, and hopefully I'll have chapter 4 up real soon!**

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Everything about the room screamed wealth, from the thick Egyptian cotton sheets that she couldn't stop running her hands over to the room service menu boasting quail and lobster. She'd felt like a fraud as she'd checked into the five star hotel, muttering her name at the reception desk and looking over her shoulder multiple times, certain that someone would see her checking in and realise what she was doing – what they were all doing. What _was_ she doing? It was a question which had plagued the redhead for the past seven days, her mind working overtime as she tried to rationalise and justify the decision she had made; the cons of joining Evolution outweighed the pros – and she had listed them multiple times, just to check. For every bonus, such as getting her job back and a chance to get her own back on Matt, came at least two drawbacks; everyone would hate her, Trish would never forgive her for teaming with such misogynists, she would be alone, she would be subject to all sorts of abuse and attacks, she would practically live with a target on her back… It simply wasn't worth it.

Yet here she was, sitting alone in her hotel room, staring at the cell phone in her hand, watching as the minutes counted down on the screen. In precisely three minutes she would be expected in the parking lot where, a very blunt text from Hunter had told her, a limousine would be waiting to escort them to the arena. In precisely three minutes, she would be expected to formally accept her position as a member of Evolution.

Spending the past seven days alone, Lita had welcomed solitude, keeping her phone switched off most of the week and refusing to answer her emails. Trish and Christian had tried to contact her multiple times, as had Lilian and Rob. Even Chris Jericho had tried, apologising for what he had caused. It _was_ his fault, she'd thought for a second, encouraging Matt on the Highlight Reel. But that thought had quickly left her. It was Matt's fault. She could see that now. She hadn't thought much about him, if truth be told: her mind had been far too occupied by her decision to join Evolution. Was it a decision? She wondered, flipping the phone over in her hands. She hadn't had much of a choice, really. Perhaps Trish would see that…Perhaps she'd understand.

A low, scathing sound escaped her at the very thought and she shook her head. She knew better than anyone that Trish wouldn't understand – she wasn't like Lita. Trish had other interests, other things in her life. But not Lita. All she had was wrestling… Glancing back at the phone, she sighed, the screen illuminating to read one minute past six. She was late.

They can't make me go, she thought, starting slightly as her phone began to vibrate, Hunter's name appearing on the screen. It had been a common theme of the week – every time she would convince herself she was doing the right thing, something else would come to mind, reminding her of her morals, her friends, her _dignity_ , all of which she would need to give up to join Evolution. Yet it was also the same on the opposite end of the spectrum; each time she'd decide to give up completely and accept her role as an unemployed wrestler, she'd be reminded of the promises Ric had made her. _You could have everything you ever wanted._ And what did she want? To be a wrestler – to be the best wrestler she could be. And they could give her that.

The thudding which shook her hotel room door snapped her from her contemplation, and she sighed. Of course they wouldn't just forget about her or leave without her. No doubt they'd orchestrated everything to a tee, every movement planned to the second and, already, she was holding them up. Getting to her feet, she smoothed down her top and took a deep breath before crossing the room and unchaining the door.

"What are you playing at?" Hunter demanded, the door barely open enough to give her a view of all four men waiting outside. "Six o'clock, I told you. What time do you call this?"

Opening the door wider to allow them entry, Lita shrugged her shoulders – any smart replies she wanted to give hung on her lips as the diva gave in. She'd made her choice seven days ago. She'd made her bed and now she had to lie in it. "I was just getting my stuff," she lied, motioning to her duffel bag which lay open on the floor. "I couldn't find my wrestling gear."

If Hunter was going to argue – and it looked like he might – he was cut off by Randy Orton who, swaggering forward, grabbed her bag, zipping it up and throwing it over his shoulder. "I've got it, Hunt. We can go now," he said, already heading for the door, Batista hot on his heels. Neither of them wanted to get into an argument, it seemed, and Lita smiled. Batista had only been back a handful of weeks and already he knew how to avoid conflict with Hunter. Maybe she would learn to deal with him, one day…

"Going forward," Hunter said, barring her exit from the room with one arm. His voice was low, quiet and dripping with anger. "If I set you a deadline or a timescale, you stick to it. If I say jump, you say 'how high?'. Got it?" Standing so close she could smell the spearmint gum on his breath, Hunter arched an eyebrow and Lita, eyes flickering towards Ric, nodded her head. Ric had avoided her gaze, making it evident she was on her own with this one.

"So that's it, huh? I answer to you, now?" Her words came out less confrontational than she'd intended, her voice meek and mild, barely more than a whisper.

"If you want to keep your job."

And she did. God damn it, she did.

* * *

The elevator ride to the parking lot was painfully quiet, the mechanical cranks of the elevator the only noise to be heard. Hunter seemed to physically radiate anger, his authority being questioned having set him off early for the evening. Was this something she would have to deal with regularly? She wondered, taking a few seconds to look around the elevator. Besides Hunter, the rest of the occupants seemed calm and composed, as though this was entirely commonplace. But who was it that usually pissed him off? Not Orton, that was for sure, the way he scurried along, trying to keep the peace. Nor Batista who, Lita imagined, could probably snap Hunter like a twig. And definitely not Ric. Ric did nothing to anger Hunter, even if it meant selling out other members of their faction… Was he really so volatile that he would take his anger out on them, regardless of who caused it?

As the elevator came to a stop, a dignified ' _ping´_ rang through the compacted space before the doors opened, spitting them out onto asphalt and concrete. In front of the elevator was a limousine, the sort she had watched Evolution appear at the arenas in week after week and, though she hated to admit it, there was a bounce in her step as she moved towards it; she had never ridden in a limo before. Leaning across to open the door, a large, tattooed arm cut across her, unlatching the door and pulling it open. For a moment, she thought she'd broken some sort of etiquette, some unwritten rule that meant there was a rota for who entered the limo first but, instead, she was met with a small motion of Orton's head, a tiny inclination that said 'on you go'. _Oh_ , she thought, sliding into the back of the spacious car, the material of her trousers gliding across the expensive leather. _At least one of them has manners…_

But any complimentary thoughts she had toward her new wrestling 'family' were quickly forgotten as the four men filed into the car, the novelty and luxury of the ride quickly wearing off. As the car pulled out of the parking lot, Lita's stomach lurched, though she didn't think it had anything to do with motion sickness. "I've got your contract in the car, Lita. Had it sent over last night," Ric informed her, adopting that airy, conversational tone which had confused her the week before. "You can look over it when we get to the arena – you'll have plenty time. We've already signed it."

"So you four agreed to my terms?" she asked, eyebrow arching in doubt. "You four all agreed to look after me? To _protect_ me? To give me what I want? And all I have to do is accompany you guys to the ring and act like a good little member of Evolution?" It was too good to be true; she would definitely need to read this contract at the arena.

"Told you she wouldn't believe you," Randy replied, rolling his eyes. She hadn't forgotten, of course, that he'd bet on her the previous week – he had known she would join and known she would argue… Leaning forward to get a good look at the diva, he laughed. "If you hold up your end of the bargain, we'll hold up ours. But, uh, the lawyer forgot the 'Orton can't hit on me' clause…"

"Sexual harassment of any kind is forbidden," Ric corrected, shaking his head at Randy with a nervous chuckle. "Don't worry, the kid was only messing around. Weren't you, Randy?"

A muttered 'of course I was' saw Randy sit back in his seat, falling quiet once more. "And after I sign it…that's it? I'm one of you guys?"

"That's right, princess. One of us, " Ric grinned, Lita's stomach sinking once more. "No going back, now."

"You don't have to sign," Hunter replied, looking entirely bored of the conversation. "You can throw it back in our faces, lose your job and leave Hardy to run around the WWE telling everyone how he cost you your job. If you want, that is."

Taking a deep breath, Lita forced a smile onto her face, hands clutched tight together to prevent them from shaking. "No, no. One of you. No going back."

* * *

The Evolution locker room was, to say the least, very different compared to any Lita had ever stepped foot in. Where, usually, stood a bench, some coat pegs or, if they were lucky, a locker or two, and a handful of fold away chairs – and all to accommodate six or seven people – was two black, leather sofas, a mini bar, a television and a safe. It looked more like the back room of a social club than a locker room. "Take a seat," Ric said, entering the room behind her and throwing his suit jacket over one of the sofas. Handing over the contract he'd promised her, the eldest member of the group took a seat himself, watching her eagerly as she read over the terms and conditions.

If the other guys in the room were intrigued by her, they made no outward signs of it, with Hunter and Randy reading the match card and muttering quietly to each other while Batista made himself at home. "What's the catch?" she asked, after giving the contract due consideration.

"There's no catch. You made your stipulations, we made ours," Ric replied, that same, calm demeanour present.

"Your stipulations seem to suit me more than anything else. It doesn't make sense. I mean, one of these stipulations is, literally, that I insert myself into 'any and all challenges for the WWE Women's Championship'. I mean, how does that benefit you?"

"We're the best in the business. What does the best have? Gold," he said simply.

"And you'll really stick to this? I keep my job? You guys keep me safe? It's legit?" A small nod from the sixteen-time champion answered her question. "Then where do I sign?"

As Lita scrawled her signature on the proverbial dotted line, Ric conferred with the other men, clapping his hands together in delight before turning back to the newest member. "How would you like us to deal with your little Hardy problem?" Lita frowned. Ruining Matt Hardy had been one of the deciding factors in her decision to join the faction but now that it was an option – now that it was real – she couldn't believe she was agreeing to it. "We have to show you off, you know – make an entrance. And what better way to do it than this." Ric pushed the card forward and pointed to the second last match – 'Christian vs Matt Hardy'. Lita swallowed, knowing that Christian had probably begged for the match, maybe even used his favour to get it. "The boys'll get in early and teach Hardy a little lesson…"

Watching the smile which crossed both Orton and Batista's faces made her uneasy. They would take joy in this, in ripping Matt Hardy limb from limb. And why? Because she wanted them to? Having such power was a little too much for the redhead and she felt dizzy as she handed the contract back to Ric. "But Christian – you'll leave him out of this, right?" directing her question at the two men who would be dealing the blows, Lita prayed they cared enough about the contract to honour her wishes.

"If he stays out of the way, he has nothing to worry about. Otherwise…" Randy shrugged, Batista cracking his knuckles menacingly. Great, she thought, just as I expected.

* * *

It was hard to sit back and watch as Trish was ambushed and double teamed by Molly and Victoria, and Lita could barely watch. She had begged and complained, demanding she be allowed to leave, to save her friends, but her arguments had fallen on the deaf ears of Batista and Orton, who had been left in the room with her. "Lita, stop!" Randy groaned loudly, sick of the whining noise coming from the redhead beside him. "You're not going out that door and that's it! Hunter said you're to stay in here all night. Well, until Hardy's match. Then you come down with us…" Randy paused, popping one of the cashew nuts he had bought from the vender into his mouth. "Now shut the hell up while we watch this." As much as he enjoyed the prospect of Lita being a member of Evolution, he was not enjoying the incessant complaining.

"This is why no one likes you…"

"No one likes us because we win, Lita. Now I wont tell you again – shut the hell up."

The redhead glared at the younger man who's eyes remained glued to the television ahead. "No. No one likes you because you're assholes. Lying, cheating assholes who don't deserve to be a part of this company."

"And you're one of us now. So what does that make you?"

* * *

For most of the night, Lita was silent, answering only when Hunter demanded it and the diva kept her head down when Ric defeated Chris Jericho thanks to Batista's interference. But now, as Waterproof Blonde's 'Just Close Your Eyes' resonated through the arena, the redhead was filled with questions. Would they hurt Christian? What would they do to Matt? Should she go down with them to start with? Should she get involved? "Change of plans," Ric announced as they left the Evolution locker room, Batista already having checked that the coast was clear. A loud cry of 'Oh yeah' told the redhead that Matt Hardy was on his way down to the ring. "Orton and Batista will go down without you. When things get serious, you go down there. Make it look like you're gonna stop the boys. And then…its your prerogative." Lita nodded, swallowing hard. "But if Randy tells you to get out the ring – you get out the ring. If he tells you to get a sledgehammer – you get the sledgehammer. You answer to him when you're down there. Got it?" Lita nodded bitterly, unhappy at having to 'answer' to the third generation superstar. Randy, however grinned, adjusting the waistband of his wrestling shorts. "When we go back down – for the handicap match against Goldberg – I'll be at ringside for the boys. You and Hunt stay back here. Then, when Goldberg's well and truly down – we cant risk your big entrance being ruined by him attacking you – we'll announce the new member of Evolution." The white-blond man grinned with pride at the faction before first turning to Randy, then Dave. "I'd say its time to go boys…"

The redhead watched with wide-eyed fear as Randy and Dave made their way to the ring, the larger man hauling Christian away from Matt almost effortlessly before Randy 'took care of' the North Carolina native. It was almost with a feeling of excitement – which later made her feel quite sick – that she watched The Legend Killer's fists draw blood and her stomach turned rapidly as the third generation superstar left Matt to Dave as he exited the ring. For a second, she thought he was leaving the ring permanently until the St. Louis native began rifling underneath the ring. It was her cue - she knew what he was planning on doing and knew that this was the time she should make her entrance. She waited until Randy had slid back into the ring, steel chair in hand, before signalling to the sound-technician to hit Evolution's ring song. By the time it started, Dave had positioned the semi-conscious wrestler on his shoulders and the steel chair was placed in front of him.

Fans turned to watch the titantron as Motorhead's 'Line In The Sand' played, yet there was no sign of Hunter nor of Ric. Even Randy forgot his position as Dave's cheerleader and turned to stare. Nothing. He was beginning to think that the redhead had chickened out when she appeared at the top of the ramp. She ran, with many fans assuming she was trying to prevent Matt from taking such a beating – even if he had hurt her the week before. But, as she pushed her way through the ropes, Dave threw him onto the chair with a sickening crunch and a thud, Matt Hardy flopping lifeless onto the canvas. There was many things Lita could have done at this point – many of the fans expected her to shield Hardy while Dave had at least expected her to get a kick in but, surprising most, she reached out and took Dave's hand, then Randy's and raised them high in the air. Rather than the fan reaction she expected, the arena fell silent and, through the silence, they made their way up the ramp.

Ric grinned and clamped one arm around Lita's shoulders. "You did it, Lita. You did it. You're one of us, now." And then she threw up.


	4. Chapter 4 - Consequences

**A/N: Thank you so much to those of you who've read the last three chapters (or, indeed, even looked at this fanfic at any given time, during the first post or this rewrite!). I've noticed a few new readers so I just want to say hey to you guys too! Thank you so much. We're slowly reaching the point where I'll start changing the story and diverting it a little - up until now it's been a little bit of a tweaking/editing process but going forward we'll be changing the narrative a little bit. Also, I'm going to take this time to say you should seriously go watch 2003/2004 RAW because I do it every time I start thinking about this fic and there are just SO many hidden gems!**

 **I'd love to hear everyone's feedback on this story - anything you like/didn't like/want to see - but also, I'd love to hear what everyone's favourite era of wrestling was! I'm pretty certain 2002-2005 was mine, though I have a total soft spot for the Rated RKO timeline and also the Legacy years, when my attentions 100% diverted from Randy Orton to Cody Rhodes.**

* * *

"Do you want some water?" Randy Orton's voice carried through the bathroom door and Lita's stomach lurched once more, the redhead gripping the toilet bowl as she retched. Everything about this scenario was so wrong, from the man on the other side of the door to the red, bloody finger prints she was leaving on the porcelain. She had thought that getting her own back on Matt would feel better than this, and never dreamed it would end in her losing the pitiful contents of her stomach. Instead, the metallic stench of blood clung to her as she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, inadvertently smearing red across her cheek. "You've got a match coming up and, uh," the handle of the door rattled as Randy tired of waiting and, pressing down, it gave easily, allowing him access. "Shit…"

Sitting on the floor of Evolution's private bathroom, Matt Hardy's blood staining her hands and cheek, and reeking of vomit, Lita looked up at the young man who, crossing the bathroom in two long strides, paused, hovering by her side. "What do you want?" she said, staring at her hands. His own had been cleaned, she noted, when he pushed a bottle of water towards her.

"Ric says you've been in here since we got back. Booker and Henry's match is over – they got 'Street Fight' on the wheel," he replied, and Lita suspected he simply didn't know what else to say. Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight from one foot to another, waiting for her to speak. She wanted to, to hurt him, to make him feel as pathetic as she did, even though none of this was his fault. Not really.

"You can go now," Lita groaned, fidgeting with the water bottle, though she made no attempt to drink from it. "I'll still go to my match. You don't ned to worry about Evolution holding up their side of the bargain or whatever it is. Just leave." The open confusion on his face threw her and she glared up at him, hating that he was near, that he'd seen her like this, and she needed him to leave. It was easier when she'd been alone, able to choke down her hate filled thoughts as her body rejected everything else.

"It's a steel cage match. Bischoff announced you'd been rehired after we came back to the locker room. Then announced you'd be wrestling – you and Victoria," he replied, before turning to leave. Good, she thought, _the further away that slimy bastard is away from me the better. Him_ _and_ _the other three_. And yet, they'd help up their part of the bargain – they'd dealt with Matt. For her. She'd caused this… A choked sob escaped her and mere seconds later, she felt a dark shadow cast over her as Randy returned to his previous position in front of her, crouching down to eye level.

"You'll be fine," he said, in what she assumed was supposed to be a reassuring tone of voice. Instead, he sounded confused, even a little unnerved. "You've faced Victoria before, right?" _Of course that's what he thinks this is about_ , Lita thought, scoffing. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she nodded; there was no point in making him more uncomfortable. _Typical – I'm the one upset, but here I am worrying about how comfortable he is. Him. Of all people._ "Then what are you crying for? You got this. You're one of Evolution now, remember?"

Sniffing, she nodded again. _He really believes it_ , she thought, _really believes that Evolution was the solution to every problem_. It was easy to think like that when you'd never felt the way she did. She couldn't imagine he'd ever been in this position, so low, so alone; she couldn't imagine him – or any of Evolution, for that matter – sitting on the toilet floor crying. Unscrewing the water bottle, she moved to take a sip, the bottle colliding against Randy's hand, which had halted in mid-air, dangerously close to her face. "You've got blood," he explained, pointing at her cheek before hastily pushing to his feet. "Just – wash your face and get changed into your ring gear, yeah? Batista's got an interview but, after that, he'll walk you to the ring for your match." And with that, he was gone, leaving the Diva alone in the bathroom once more. Just as she'd wanted.

* * *

Her skin was ashen and the dark circles below her eyes stood prominent against it but, other than a roll of the eyes from Hunter, her appearance went unmentioned. Batista, silent as usual, had walked her to gorilla, hovering by the curtain when her music hit. "You don't have to come, you know? I'll be in a cage, for Christ's sake, and after what you and Orton did to Matt, I doubt he'll be making another appearance," she explained, giving him a small shrug before heading through the curtain. This was something she could do, something she understood. She didn't need help on this part. The second she stepped out onto the ramp, all fear and hurt seemed to leave her. She was happiest and most comfortable in front of her fans and, thanks to Evolution, she would be here a while longer. Glancing behind her, she half expected to see Batista ignoring her wishes yet was met with nothing but bright lights and metal ramp. A grin tugged at her cheeks and the red head threw herself down towards the ring, slapping fans' hands and waving at any signs sporting her name. She had a duty to these fans; she had to show them she was here to stay.

As Lita's ring music rang out, Dave Batista hung back by the curtain, watching and waiting for any sort of risk or problem to arise. Victoria slipped past, eyeing him disdainfully. A look of distrust was evident, yet it was a look he had long since grown used to and, rolling his shoulders, he smirked at her in response, watching as she shuddered. Once the dark-haired Diva had made her way to the ring, however, Dave chanced another peek out of the curtain, the steel cage which hung above the ring beginning its descent. Lita was right, of course; what real damage could come to her in the steel cage? Damage he could prevent, anyway. She and Victoria would be quite the match up and, really, it would be a hell of a fight, the sort you'd want to watch from the comfort of your locker room, not hovering around at the curtain, barely able to see what was going on. Once Earl Hebner had closed the cage door fully, Dave turned on his heel – if he moved fast enough, he could be back at the locker room before any of the real wrestling began.

Slipping through the corridors, he was soundless as he thought over the rest of the evening; he had been dubious about Lita, initially, and even more so when she'd locked herself away earlier that night. God knows what Orton must have said to her to get her out of that bathroom… But Dave's reverie was ended by the sound of wrestling boots slapping against the ground, growing faster as they neared. Instantly, Dave snapped to attention, head whipping one way and the next as he searched for Michaels or Goldberg. He hadn't expected the owner of the footsteps to be Randy, however, who raced past him, barely giving a second glance his way. "What's up? Where are you going?" Dave hollered, stopped in his tracks for just a second.

His answer came not from Randy, but Hunter, who appeared behind the younger man, moving at a leisurely pace though there was nothing leisurely about the look on his face or the sledgehammer he clutched in one hand. "Hardy."

* * *

Matt Hardy was, more than anything else, a very stupid man. Sure, in theory he was 'smarter' than Jeff, but that didn't make him intelligent. An intelligent man would have known that, after the beating he'd been delivered earlier that evening, smashing a steel cage into Lita's face would ensure that Evolution would come gunning for you. But not Matt. Matt stood at the top of the ramp, gloating as he smirked down at Lita who, still behind the cage, was yet to get back to her feet. Victoria stood by the cage, Earl Hebner holding her hand up in victory but the dark-haired Diva looked fearful, glancing back into the ring every few seconds. Yes, she disliked the woman in the ring but at the same time… Dropping Earl's hand, Victoria clambered back into the ring, through the metal door and reached down to help Lita up.

As the redhead reached towards her competitor, her hand closing around the other woman's, Randy Orton's fist connected with Matt Hardy's face, the smaller man falling to the ground instantly. Victoria held on to Lita's hand although she was no longer staring at the slightly smaller diva; her eyes were trained on Orton and Hardy as Evolutions 'Legend Killer' and The Nature Boy pummelled into the North Carolina native. Victoria couldn't help but find irony in the fact that the fans were cheering Evolution's attack and continued to stare blindly at the scene unfolding in front of her. She pulled Lita to her feet with all her might and, for a second, the two stood staring, mouth open, at the scene unfolding in front of them.

Neither woman moved.

That was until Hunter and Dave arrived, the blond still carrying his sledgehammer, a glimmer of brass knuckles playing on The Animal's hand. Lita sprinted, almost falling through the cage door in her haste as she tried to make it up the ramp. She was dizzy, her vision blurred and the ringing sound in her ears was convincing her that she was suffering a bad case of tinnitus but she knew for a fact that she couldn't let this happen. "Stop!" she screamed, but no one seemed to hear her. She watched as Batista hauled her ex-boyfriend onto his knees, lining him up for whatever brutal shot Hunter or Randy was willing to throw his way. As Randy's hand drew back, Lita became level and reached out, grabbing at the hand which, had she been a second later, would have easily broken Matt's nose. She caught onto his wrist and held as tightly as she could, scared that if she let go it would be the end of Matt.

"What are you doing, Lita?" Randy growled, causing Lita to stare up at him, confused. She thought that it was perfectly obvious what she was doing – she was stopping him attacking Matt Hardy. "Look what he did to you…"

"Please…Stop…" There was something about Matt – something she couldn't put her finger on – but she had always felt the overwhelming urge to protect him. Even now, after he had tried to knock her unconscious, after he had lost her job, after everything. Her conscience simply wouldn't allow her to be the cause of such brutality. "Please…" The muscles in the arm she was holding seemed to soften, Randy's arm starting to lag as he lowered it.

"Out of my way," Hunter barked, smashing the sledgehammer into Matt's face, blood spurting in all directions as, once more, the North Carolina native fell to the ground.

The rest of the evening seemed to pass in a blur, Lita remaining in the Evolution locker room in silence while the others passed in and out for their matches. But, by the end of the night, there was no shift to the mood and Hunter paced the room like a caged animal, vein in his neck throbbing as he bellowed in rage. ""What was that all about, Orton? Hmm?" So far, he had kicked over three bins on the way back to the locker room, threw a plant across said locker room and was now staring menacingly at his young prodigy, tempted to hit him with the glass water bottle in his hand. "You went fucking soft!"

"I couldn't do it," Randy replied, his voice barely audible as he stared into his hands, turning the brass knucks Batista had brought with him over repeatedly. "She was begging me not to…She…She's one of us Hunt – I couldn't do that to her."

"EXACTLY!" Hunter exploded and Ric and Dave, too, stared at him. "She's one of us. That's my point exactly. When he attacked her, he attacked us, Randy. This is all about pride, kid. Fuck what the broad wants."

"So, it wasn't about her getting hurt?"

"It was about us being attacked." Randy raised an eyebrow – he wanted to question his mentor's motives but there was a tiny nagging voice (which, funnily enough, sounded a lot like Hunter's) telling him that it was unwise to question it. Triple H had always said that Evolution was all about looking after each other but, clearly, it wasn't. "Look, Randy," he tried to reason – it was wise to keep all members of the faction on your side at all times – with the younger man. "I know you wanna play the knight in shining armour but she's totally blinded by him. We did the right thing sorting him out. He attacked her, Randy. He hurt her. She's one of us, we were being attacked. We had to retaliate. We can't afford to go all weak because of some broad…"

Randy nodded as reassuringly as he could. What had he been thinking anyway? This wasn't some stupid game – this was about their careers! They couldn't show weakness of any sort; not with Hardy and, certainly, not with Lita. The St. Louis native got to his feet and began to roll his shoulders, if anything, just for something to do. He'd been stupid, tonight, and he needed to get his mind back in the game and stop worrying about Lita and that stupid Hardy. Drawing himself up to full height, Randy grabbed his suit jacket. "Let's just get the fuck out of here. I need a drink."

* * *

Sitting in the limo on the way back to the hotel, Lita was glad of Hunter's anger, each time Randy or Dave spoke, suggesting somewhere to go and eat or drink to 'cool down' he would grunt, the younger members of the team shot down every time. She couldn't imagine being forced to socialise with them and, in all honesty, she wasn't certain she could keep any food or drink down. Her head throbbed where it had connected with the steel cage and the last thing she wanted was to have to sit with these four men, to act like what had happened that night was nothing. All she wanted was for someone – anyone other than Evolution – to reach out, to tell her it would be okay and that she'd done the right thing.

"Can I go see Trish?" she asked, her voice cracking as she spoke, cutting across Ric as he recounted some tale of twins in Atlanta.

"Lita, Lita, Lita," Ric said, his voice almost fatherly as he turned to face her – something which worried Lita. "When you're in Evolution, Evolution is everything. We're your friends, we're your family. And outside Evolution, you have nothing. Outsiders only bring you down. They get in your head, they convince you we're not there for you and they manipulate you. You don't need them Lita. You just need us. Us and us alone."

Lita didn't reply.

"All for one and one for all, Lita – that's how we think. You start relying on others outside the group, you break the circle of trust…We thought, when you agreed to this little set-up, that you understood that. If you didn't then perhaps you'll have to think of another way of keeping Hardy off your back because I can tell you right now, he's gonna be pretty pissed off after what you did to him tonight," Hunter spoke simply, his eyes glistening with malice as they bore into Lita's hazel ones.

"So that's a no?" She'd expected as much but a tiny part of her had hoped they would soften, that they would see what sort of state she was in…

"She probably doesn't wanna speak to you right now, anyway. We're not exactly on the best of terms with that lot," Randy replied, shrugging his shoulders. "And both times you appeared tonight, you ended up with me and Dave, here, so, uh, maybe best to just let that idea die in the water."

Lita sighed, leaning her head against the window. She had known this wouldn't be easy but tonight? She would have taken a hundred broken nights over this. "Okay," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll just go back to the hotel."


	5. Chapter 5 - New Beginnings

**A/N: I had a little fib in the last chapter - this was definitely the last chapter with very little change to it, as it was more of an _explanation_ chapter, giving a little more insight into Lita's state of mind! I don't have much to say this time, other than I hope you enjoy and please leave reviews and feedback! Love you all!**

* * *

It hadn't been the easiest of weeks for Lita who, since flying out of Salt Lake City on Tuesday morning, had spent most of her time in the shower or taking unnecessarily long walks with her dog, desperately seeking for a way to clear her head and forget some of the thoughts which had plagued her since Monday night. It had, in fact, taken until Thursday, when her elderly neighbour had brought over a casserole and a bone for McKenzie to shake her out of her funk. Just speaking to someone, someone who had no knowledge of her current situation and knew nothing of Evolution, had made her feel more at ease, more human. By the time Mrs Riggs finally left, waving jovially, and promising to bring over some pie next week, Lita felt almost strong.

Closing the door on her neighbour, Lita tied her hair back from her face before rolling up her sleeves. There were few moments of clarity she had experienced in her life, and none half so clear as this. Heading straight for the bedroom, she grabbed the trash can and the photo of her and Matt from her bedside table (the photo which, for the past two weeks, had lain face down), and dumped it unceremoniously into the bin, a smile crossing her face for the first time in days. Soon enough, his t-shirt followed it, as did a necklace and a book he'd bought her, and everything else which reminded her of him. Ridding her house of everything remotely related to Matt, Lita found herself laughing, almost maniacally, as she found joy in cleansing her home.

The last few days had taken their toll on the diva and, when she was finished binning all of Matt's things, her body wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep, glad that she had taken the first step in returning to her old self. She did feel more like herself than she had done in weeks. Still, she knew she couldn't – she had one last step to take before she could take a break. Taking a seat on her sofa, Lita reached for the cell phone she had intentionally kept switched off since Monday night. Waiting for her phone to turn on, she placed it on the table, eyeing it suspiciously as she wondered what would await her. Was it even worth it? She wondered, rubbing at the back of her neck, and chewing on her lip. The screen illuminated and the phone began to vibrate as one message after another came through and, once it had stopped vibrating, she took a deep breath and took the phone in hand.

As per usual, her mother and brother had text her, menial things which she could easily ignore. Billy was in the running for a promotion he would never get, Lita had missed their aunt Lily's birthday and her mother had found a new recipe for sweet potato brownies. It had long been established that her mother did not watch wrestling – she didn't understand, really – yet the last message caused Lita to sigh and she closed it after reading, vowing to reply eventually, to ease her mother's mind. ' **What is Evolution and should I be worried?** ' was not a message she could answer easily and she wasn't certain she knew the answer. The final two senders, however, were messages she couldn't ignore. The first was Hunter, who's simple message informing her of the hotel they would be staying in on Monday was enough to cause Lita to scowl; just the thought of having to spend time with him was enough to threaten her almost-good mood. Thanking him as curtly as she could, she moved onto the next and final sender, her heart sinking as she opened a barrage of messages.

' **What the hell?! Where are you?!** '

' **You're rehired? Why didn't you tell me?** '

' **Lita?** '

' **?** '

' **Why are you ignoring me?** '

' **People are talking, Li. I've heard some weird stuff. Please tell me they've got it wrong.** '

As she read each message, Lita grew more ill at ease and the confidence she had possessed just moments before seemed to dissipate, her palms growing sweaty as she forced her fingers to move over the buttons. She had planned to explain everything, to give Trish the explanation she truly deserved yet no words seemed to do it justice. She could swear a thousand times that Trish would always be her best friend, that no matter who she was managing or working with, no one would ever replace her, but she didn't have the right words and nothing sounded right when she typed them out. Sighing, she deleted her pitiful attempts to explain, typing only the words ' **I'm sorry** ' before sending the message and tossing her cell phone in the bin with Matt Hardy's belongings.

* * *

Sitting in the back of the limousine, it was hard to believe that just seven days before she had signed a contract, agreeing to join Evolution. In those seven days, she had gone through so many emotions that it seemed a lifetime ago. When the passenger door opened, light flooding the empty limousine, Lita looked up, watching as her fellow Evolution member joined her. "Trying to make up for last week's bad time keeping?" Dave Batista asked, regarding her with a raised eyebrow. He slid seamlessly into a seat across from her.

"Something like that," Lita replied, not mentioning that she had been ready for over an hour or that she had interrupted the driver's meal when she had arrived fifteen minutes before. "How come you're early?" She didn't particularly care, of course– and she suspected Dave knew as much, too – but if she had resigned herself to being one of them, she knew she had to be amicable and, by her deductions, Batista was the best place to start.

"I'm always early," he said. A man of few words, Lita wondered if it was at all possible for him to hold a lengthy conversation. The previous week had given her little to go on, of course, her catatonic state limiting her chance to chat to the 'Animal' of Evolution. Yet he was her best shot, she knew, to be friendly; she and Hunter had too much history to be friends, while her suspicions of Ric and his motives had left her uncomfortable around him and, even if he had come to check on her the previous week, she knew better than to let her guard down around Orton, who's womanising ways were near legendary backstage.

"I never said thank you last week," she tried, forcing herself to look at him. Well over six feet tall and dressed in a white wife beater and expensive looking slacks, Dave Batista took up more room than Lita thought humanly possible.

"Look," the word almost startled her as he moved the sunglasses he wore further down his nose to look at her. "If you want to sit here and chat like you're back in the women's locker room, you've come to the wrong guy, okay? You want that shit, wait for Orton. Otherwise, let's keep this brief, yeah?" And with that, he was done. Pushing the sunglasses back up his nose, he picked up a copy of Flex magazine from a small compartment filled with magazines and snacks and blocked her out.

The silence which followed was almost desirable, however, once Randy had joined them. Sliding into the car effortlessly, he claimed the seat beside Lita, who almost choked at the strong scent of expensive cologne and pressed herself closer against the window.

"Big night tonight, huh?" he grinned, clapping his hands together. "You guys spoke to Hunter yet?" Without waiting for an answer, he leaned across, helping himself to a packet of chips, which he offered to Lita once he'd opened them. Having been waved away, he shrugged, his attentions back at the topic at hand. "You and me have a match tonight. Teaming up with Kane, I mean it's against Goldberg, RVD and Michaels – it'll be a piece of cake." If Batista was listening, he made no obvious sign of it, yet Randy showed no sign of slowing down. "Hunter and Ric have the night off – except for the big announcement, but they won't be wrestling." Rounding on Lita, he grinned. "You, however, _will_ be wrestling." For a second, he sat watching her, popping chips in his mouth and smiling, waiting for her to ask who her opponent would be. "You and Trish. What a match…"

"What?!" she didn't want to show weakness, not in front of Orton and Batista, but it was too late, the words were out.

"Yeah," Orton replied, a shrug of his shoulders punctuating his nonchalance. "Hunter said Jericho used his favour to get the match for Trish so Bischoff couldn't back out." It was all she needed to hear and Lita could barely look him in the eye. Did Trish really hate her so much? Her hand came to rest behind her neck, where she rubbed softly. She couldn't wrestle Trish, not right now. She had to speak to her, to explain. "What are you worried about? You got this. You kick her ass, you move one step closer to being number one contender – maybe we can get Bischoff to squeeze in a match at Armageddon?" When Lita didn't respond right away, she felt, rather than saw, him shrug again. "Besides, I'll be at ringside anyway. Even the battlefield and make sure Jericho doesn't pull any tricks…"

She hadn't thought about that. She hadn't even included Jericho in the equation, thinking only of herself and Trish. He had used his favour for this. He had given up infinite possibilities so that Trish could get a chance to kick her ass…. Just the fact that Trish even wanted to, it was all too much. Swallowing hard, she nodded, the word 'thanks' escaping her lips as the door to the limo opened, Hunter and Ric joining the rest of their faction.

* * *

She wanted nothing more than to hide, then. After the limousine had pulled into the Ford Park Arena, she had cowered in her chair, not ready to accept that she had to head inside, that she had to face her best friend. She had told Hunter as much, asking if she could just stay in the car a little longer, until she stopped feeling sick. A headache, she'd blamed, though it was obvious he had taken no notice of her. "Come on," Orton had said, looking bored as he stood at the side of the limo, bent slightly to see the redhead. "You can throw a tantrum or lock yourself in a bathroom or whatever you need to do in that arena. But you need to get your ass out of that limo before Trips throws a fit." His voice was low, low enough that the other men who, standing just feet away, could not hear. "Just get in the arena, let him have his moment and then we can go back to the locker room and you can huff or throw darts at a Trish Stratus poster. I really don't give a fuck but seriously, you need to get out of the limo."

"Let me have a go, kid – "Ric said, his arm coming into view as he opened the door further. Perhaps it was the weariness in Randy's voice, something she hadn't quite heard in the short amount of time she'd been around him, or the fact that she didn't want to be alone with Ric, but she shimmied along the seat, moving closer to leaving.

"No need, Ric. We got this," Randy grinned, winking at Lita as he held out a hand to help her from the limo. "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be, Lita. Come on." He said, once again, just out of earshot.

Batista rolled his eyes when the redhead appeared from the limo, but said nothing as he headed into the arena, followed by Ric, who let out a loud whoop as he strutted forward. Hunter, however, glowered, watching as Lita ignored Randy's attempt at chivalry and waiting until she had caught up with him. "I don't know what you're playing at. Quite frankly I don't care. But get one thing right, Lita – you do as I say or you have no job. You answer to me, got it?" The defiant tilt of her head was no answer for the former World Heavyweight Champion who opened his mouth to argue, when Randy put his hand on the older man's shoulder and shook his head. If the two had words, Lita had no idea of it as she walked faster, trying to catch up with Dave and Ric, though she couldn't imagine Randy would have the backbone.

* * *

The redhead was met with boos for the first time in her life that evening and, swallowing hard, was pushed almost roughly into the ring by Hunter who ushered Ric from the apron as he attempted to hold the ropes for the newest member of 'the family'. Randy Orton turned to glance at the diva before moving back to lean against the ring post, his arms stretched out either side of the turnbuckle. Dave stood nonchalantly by Ric's side, scanning the crowd while Hunter took the microphone forcefully from Lilian Garcia. "Last week, ladies and gentlemen," he rasped into the microphone, his eyes glaring towards the cameras. "You witnessed just how Evolution deal with our opposition." The man seemed to soften, for he was no longer glaring. In fact, if Lita wasn't mistaken, he had just extended his arm to her. Considering the argument which had occurred just five minutes ago, she questioned whether she should accept. "Come here, Princess." He said with his face contorted into what she assumed was a smile. Truth be told, Lita had never seen a real smile on Hunter's face, not a smirk or a sneer, and, really, it was scary. "See, we're a team of elitists and, Lita here, is the Elite diva. But she had a problem; a problem we could solve. And that problem is Matt Hardy. Now that that problem is gone," Hunter motioned back towards Randy and Dave and, upon watching the recording later that evening, Lita was sickened to notice that she unintentionally smiled at this point. "Lita can rise up to her full potential once more. And what better way to do it, than as part of the Elite?"

It was all for show, of course; it wasn't like she had a choice in any of this. The contract was signed and the deal was done and dusted, but it wasn't like anyone other than those in the ring knew that. She knew she'd have to play the role, though, go along with his silly farce. Like Orton had said, there was no need to make it more difficult. His hand remained outstretched towards the diva who appeared to dither for a second. Her face showed confusion and, for a second, Hunter was certain she was going to back out, that he could get what he wanted -a chance to humiliate her before throwing her to the wolves. "I'm in," she said, a smirk which looked wholly out of place on her pretty features, her hand coming into contact with Hunter's which, surprisingly, was soft as he held her hand high in the air.

Her hands shook as she stood at gorilla, Randy by her side, stretching. For what it was worth, the men had all but left her alone after the little announcement in the ring and Randy had barely said two words to her as they made their way from the locker room. "You ready?" he asked, breaking the silence as the opening bars of Motorhead's 'Line in The Sand' echoed throughout the arena. Despite having entered the ring less than an hour before to the very same song, she was shocked to hear that her own ring song had been replaced and she frowned, rolling her shoulders before giving a small nod.

"Do not get involved in this, you got it?" she asked, just before they made it through the curtain. "This is between Trish and I. Not you. Not Evolution. Just us."

"Tell that to Jericho."

She tried to remain positive, to enter the ring the way she usually did and show the same level of enthusiasm she usually did, but it was difficult when she was receiving such an icy reception, with Randy Orton following her down the ramp and into the ring.

By the time Trish and Jericho had joined them at ringside, Lita could barely hold it together. While the men vacated the ring, Lita held up her hands in defence. "Trish, please," she begged, trying to move closer. "Please, you have to hear me out." No words came from the blonde, however, who lunged at her, attempting to grab her in a headlock. As the two women grappled, Lita kicked her friend in the stomach, breaking the hold and creating some space between the two. "Trish – please, I'm begging you."

But her pleas were met with nothing but hostility and, time after time, Trish came at her on the offensive. For a few moments, she did her best not to hurt Trish; she did only what she could to keep space in between them but after a while there was no denying she would get nowhere and every cheer and encouraging sound from Jericho at ringside left her skin crawling. Breaking another hold, Lita tried to shift away from the former Women's Champion, taking solace in her own side of the ring. Turning to face Randy, she shook her head, wanting an out. Despite having demanded he stay out of the match, she almost wished he would involve himself; she would never wish ill or harm on Trish yet she couldn't bring herself to wrestle her, couldn't do it by herself.

That was, of course, until she felt Trish's hands fist in her hair, dragging her backwards and causing her to cry out. As Trish began her assault, fists pummelling into every inch of Lita she could find, adrenaline seemed to kick in and Lita went from defending herself to throwing her former best friend off of her. It was as though the past two weeks seemed to take over, a red mist clouding her thoughts as her own fists began to fly. It was difficult to stop once she started, every angry thought towards Matt Hardy and Eric Bischoff, Molly Holly and Hunter Helmsley came to the forefront of her mind and she couldn't help herself. She was only vaguely aware of the referee telling her to stop, of the bell ringing and of Trish being announced the winner of the match by disqualification. The only thing she _was_ aware of was the intense pain in her neck as Chris Jericho attacked her and then suddenly…nothing.

Rolling onto her back, she watched as Randy smashed Chris's face into the top turnbuckle, right fist connecting squarely in his face mere seconds later. It was easy to see that Evolution had been right, that she needed their help now and as Randy connected with a dropkick, sending Chris Jericho over the top rope, she pushed herself to her feet, Randy crossing the ring and joining her seconds later. "You good?" he asked, arm wrapping around her shoulders.

She wanted to shake him off and tell him she didn't want his help, yet there was a comfort in the warmth he brought and when he broke away, it was only to push down the second rope to help her from the ring. A stunned silence fell over her as they made their way up the ramp, a small part of her trying to ignore the boos which accompanied them; she had been disqualified, disqualified because she couldn't stop punching her best friend. She was an animal. Yet when Randy's hand pressed against her back, directing her through the curtain, she didn't feel all that angry. In fact, she felt almost relieved, like another weight had been lifted from her.

"You know, I didn't think you had it in you –" Randy began, breaking the moment.

Lita pulled away from his touch, glowering in his direction. "Shut up, Orton."


	6. Chapter 6 - The Cards You

**A/N: Hey guys, it's me again! Sorry I took a little break from re-uploading this story, but due to university and work, I have had zero chance to look at this. This chapter was more beta-reading than anything, which has now been done and uploaded and hopefully I'll have chapter 7 up and waiting for you guys before the end of the week.  
Please, please, please leave a little review and let me know what you think of the story so far. See you guys in the next chapter!xx**

* * *

Fear wasn't a new feeling for Lita; week after week she put her body on the line, adrenaline the only thing preventing fear from taking over and causing her to tumble from the turnbuckle or run from the ring, instead. But the fear which filled her as Bill Goldberg stalked towards her? That was entirely new. The World Heavyweight Champion had never been high on her Christmas card list, but his tag team partners had. Shawn Michaels was a good man, deep down, and Rob? Rob was her friend… Yet up here on the ramp, up by the announcer's desk where she'd run, she was entirely alone.

Back in the ring, Randy Orton lay flat out, head a crimson mess where Goldberg's title had burst him open, while Batista, covered in his own blood, fought valiantly as he tried to avoid the double team of Shawn and Rob Van Dam. She was supposed to run – that was what Randy had told her, get out as quickly as she could the moment things turned south. The first sign of danger, she was supposed to run. But she hadn't. She'd seen that Kane wasn't co-operating from the very beginning of the match and had practically predicted the chokeslam he delivered to Randy. But rather than run, she'd stood by, hovering by the apron, watching as the match dissolved into chaos. As the bell rang, signifying the end of the match, she'd tossed the World Heavyweight Title to Batista, certain that between him, an unsteady Orton and the belt they could get things done, just clear the ring enough for them to leave… But it had all gone wrong. Batista was a force of nature, there was no denying that, and once he was back on his feet, Randy really had given it his all, but it was barely more than a four-on-two brawl, especially when Kane managed to get the title belt in his hands.

But as things broke down, Kane targeting Randy while both Shawn and Rob took down the larger man, she'd still been unable to leave. Hopping up onto the ring apron, she'd been about to enter when she'd made eye contact with Goldberg and had, rather late, taken Randy's advice and run. Lita was quick, but Goldberg was quicker and, in just seconds, he'd caught up with her. His eyes wide and his mouth seemingly frothing in anger, Bill Goldberg was every bit the man possessed as he stepped nearer and nearer. Before the match, they'd warned her – Batista and Randy – that Goldberg was a wildcard, that while Shawn and Rob may not put their hands on her, he would have no qualms about it. She should have listened. "Please," she begged, her hands thrown up in defense. "Please, I didn't do anything."

And yet this was the norm for Evolution. It didn't matter if Hunter or Ric or Batista or Randy threw the punch, they all dealt with the consequences. Her eyes flickered back to the ring, knowing there was no one to help her. Looking back at Goldberg, however, she swallowed. Evolution had tormented him, abused him and even put a bounty on his head since Summerslam; she couldn't blame him for being mad. That sort of torture…It had to affect you and, eventually, you had to boil over and lash out. Gritting her teeth together, she fought the urge to run. She couldn't. Evolution had caused this mess and, whether she had wanted to be or not, she was one of them now. Standing her ground, she stopped her begging, straightening up a little as she prepared herself for what would happen next.

 _Slap him_ , her mind screamed. _Slap that look off his face and show him you mean business. Do it._ Her hand shook by her side as he drew level, the bald man grinning as he darted towards her, laughing when she flinched, though he did nothing more, walking past her as though she weren't worth his time. It had all been about intimidation. And it had worked. Keeping her eye on the World Heavyweight Champion, she swallowed thickly. On the large screen above him, she winced as Batista was slammed into the barrier, the familiar feeling of guilt flooding her. Evolution had helped her multiple times in two weeks – Randy and Batista most of all – and she had to repay that somehow. Running back to the ring, her heart pounded in her chest. _Where's Hunter? Where is he?_ She wondered, blood rushing in her ear as she neared the ring. _He should be stopping this_. She had almost reached the ring when Randy pushed to his feet unsteadily, the diva dithering over where to head next. Batista was at an unfair advantage but Randy… The thought had barely crossed her mind when Randy was lifted from the mat by a right hook and sent a good six inches backwards, where he tumbled to the mat, the ring seemingly shaking as he landed. Kane stood above him, the maniacal laugh ringing throughout the arena once more as he bent down. Taking a grip of Randy's throat, he hauled him back to his feet once more. The red trickle of blood from his forehead ran across the third generation superstar's features until it marred his handsome face and Lita watched on in horror, unable to look away. He seemed floppy, almost like a doll in the seven foot monster's grip. The redhead's hands began to shake once more as she stared on in despair. Randy made a last ditch attempt to rid himself from Kane's grip but the assault from Kane had knocked him for six, leaving him disorientated and unbalanced. _WHERE IS HUNTER?_

And then it struck her. She looked around frantically, trying to find something. There was no way she could lift steel steps and she would never manage any real damage with the ring bell...She rushed to the apron, hauling it up and hunting for something, anything. If there was one thing about Kane it was that he took his time. He loved to see the fear build in his victim's eyes, to watch them squirm as they tried to get away from him. Her hand closed around the leg of a steel chair and she hauled it from under the ring, making her way between the ropes and across to where Kane stood. The blood was pumping in her ears and the shaking of her hands rattled the chair but if Hunter wasn't going to do something... The deafening _thwack_ as metal came in contact with muscle, flesh and bone terrified her but it gave her the desired effect. Randy was dropped, Kane's hand gripping at the back of his own neck as close as he could get to between his shoulder blades, where Lita had hit him. It wasn't hard enough, not by a long shot, but it gave them time.

In actual fact, it gave Batista time to free himself from Michaels and Van Dam as Kane turned to face the five foot six diva. She stood staring up at him, her mouth agape as her senses took over. Her stomach heaved but she made no attempt to move. A thin film of cold sweat covered her arms, her upper lip and the nape of her neck as Kane's lips curled, his hand reaching down to grip the steel chair still in her grasp. With one swift pull he removed it from her grasp and, looking down at the steel – which was now curved slightly from the impact it had made against him – began to laugh again. She tried to run but her body wouldn't let her. Her legs ached with the need to move, to escape from danger but she couldn't and as the steel chair came crashing down on her, Batista just out of reach of Kane, everything turned black.

* * *

The voices seemed to come from far away, muffled as though they came from the end of a long tunnel and the diva struggled to make out the words. Her head pounded and just trying to lift her neck a millimetre or two felt incredibly strenuous, sending jolts of pain coursing from the crown of her head all the way down her back. Her eyes felt heavy and even taking a breath seemed to hurt. The voices were getting closer now and she could make out two different voices. Both were male, though she was unable to decipher who they belonged to. She took a deep, racking breath which resulted in her choking, coughing a little, her ribs throbbing in protest at the exertion. The two voices fell silent though a third one pipped up, "Is she awake?" this voice was clearer than the other two, but she still struggled to put a name and face to it. "Should I get the doctor?"

One of the first voices spoke again and, this time, it seemed very clear, as though he were standing much closer than the other two, "You just press this red button, here, champ." Lita's eyes flickered as she did her best to open them, fighting against her heavy eyelids.

A fourth voice joined soon after; a female one, much more melodious than the other three she'd heard so far. "Is she awake?" she repeated. Lita responded with a small choking noise in the back of her throat. "Someone needs a drink..." The female voice seemed to drift away for a second until she felt her top half being raised, a loud cranking noise telling her that the mechanical bed was moving her into a sitting position. The cranking noise stopped and she felt a glass being pressed to her lips, the nurse doing her best to make her drink and causing the redhead to splutter as the liquid made it down her throat. "There we go..." Lita's eyes flickered again, this time managing to open though she closed them again almost instantly. The lights were white and clinical, much too bright for her tender eyes. She had only been asleep for...her train of thought was stopped in its tracks as she realised that she didn't know how long she had been asleep for. Opening her eyes once more she attempted to adjust to the lights of her room.

From her seated position on the bed, she spotted five faces staring back at her. By her side was a nurse, a tall woman in her forties with black hair showing premature greys, pulled back into a band. She had a warm smile and something about the way she observed the diva reassured Lita; she had been in her field for a long time, the diva was in good hands. At the bottom of her bed, dressed in dark grey suit pants and a slightly dishevelled white shirt, stood Ric Flair, both hands braced on the metal frame of the bed. Triple H stood by his side, his polo shirt and suit trousers looking pristine as ever, though his face told another story, while Randy took place over by the door. He had dark circles under his eyes and the gash on his forehead had fresh butterfly-stitches covering it. Dave, hiding behind his small dark glasses was seated in the only seat in the room which looked ready to give way under his weight.

The nurse busied around her, taking her pulse and recording the stats from the machine beside her which beeped loudly. "How're you feeling, sweetheart?" the nurse asked, staring into Lita's hazel eyes, taking the redheads 'observations'.

"Little tired...you?" when she spoke, her voice was much stronger than she'd expected. There was a slight crackle to it and it was heavy with sleep but it proved to her she hadn't been out of things for too long.

Ric laughed nervously but the other three remained silent as the nurse disappeared from the room, no doubt to get a doctor and tell him she was awake. "Its rude to sleep when you have visitors..." Ric laughed again moving from the end of her bed. Rolling his sleeves up he helped himself to a glass of water from the jug by her bed. "So...how're you really?"

Lita ignored the oldest member of Evolution to stare at the blond man a few feet away from her. "Where were you?" she asked, her voice cracking a little as her eyes bore into Hunter's.

"What?" Hunter's hands now gripped the metal frame and Lita noticed the bruises, the dents and cuts which adorned his knuckles. He looked tired and his dark circles were almost identical to Randy's.

"Where were you when Kane attacked Randy and Dave? Why didn't you help us?" Hunter rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "You left us...You left me to get..." She paused. She wasn't quite sure what happened. Not after she hit Kane with the steel chair.

"Four days, Lita. In four days I have to wrestle that psychopath Kane AND Goldberg," Hunter sounded weary and the redhead noted he had been one of the original two voices she had heard. She also noted that that would make it Wednesday meaning she had slept – or rather been unconscious – right through Tuesday. "I have to wrestle those psycho bastards six days after I fought off Goldberg to get to the ring to help you and the guys, after your buddies Christian and Jericho ambushed us, after I got you out of a chokeslam, after I knocked six shades of blue out of Kane and still had to wrestle him in the main event with only Ric at ringside. So don't start questioning where I was because I was right there, right there..." Lita swallowed hard. He had saved her. She looked at Randy who nodded minutely, confirming his story.

"Sorry..." she said, her voice much weaker than it had been at first.

"Its fine now, ain't it champ?" Ric said, moving back to his side to clap a hand on his shoulder. "We're all awake now. All ready for Sunday..."

Lita's eyes widened. "Sunday?"

"Armageddon...?" Dave offered. "Maybe she has amnesia?"

"No...No I know it's Armageddon I just..."

"Didn't think you'd be there?" there was a slight snarl on Hunter's lip as it curled upwards. "You're one of us, Lita, which means you'll be there. I don't care if I have to smuggle you out of this hospital myself. You'll be there. No doubts about it."

The other three avoided her eyes as the room fell silent. So that's how it was... It wasn't about her safety or her health. It was about showing a united front. "Okay..." Her word hanging in the air, a doctor entered the room, shooing the men out before closing the door. "Can I leave now?" She asked almost instantly.

"Oh-ho-ho," the doctor laughed, as he pushed back her covers a little. "I don't know about that...You just woke up."

"I have to be in Orlando on Sunday..."

"We'll see." He spoke with a finality as he began to check over the bruises which adorned her body. There was a large gash above her eyebrow, where the chair had connected with her head and bruising on her cheek, her ribs, her back and her legs, from where Kane had thrown her – much like a doll – at the announce table while he 'dealt with' Dave, before returning to Lita and dealing the final blow which rendered her unconscious. The doctor was gentle as he leaned her forward to check the bruising on her back. "Your file says you suffered a broken neck not so long ago..." He did not wait for a response as he tested the movement of the divas neck, stopping when she hissed in pain. "Well your x-rays confirmed there's nothing broken but there is a great deal of bruising on your ribs. You also suffered a mild trauma to the spine – nothing long term – but we injected some corticosteroids near the trauma which should reduce swelling, we'll give you some of them in pill form too... But I'm afraid the best medicine for these types of injuries is bed rest..."

"But I can't..." The doctor eased her back into her sitting position, a soft pillow giving her neck and back cushioning. "I'm a wrestler we have a pay-per-view on-"

"I don't think so. You won't be wrestling for a while, I'm afraid. A month or two at the very least..." Lita swallowed. Clearly, this man did not know Triple H or Eric Bischoff. "Your neck was fragile as it was before you were hurtled off an announce table or smashed over the head with a steel chair...If you wrestle without being cleared by a doctor...There's a chance you won't be walking into your fortieth birthday party if you get where I'm going with this..." She did.

"And if I discharge myself?"

"Well there's nothing I can do if you discharge yourself but it really is highly unadvised. For your own safety..." The look of determination on the redhead's face shocked the doctor – it was the exact look the younger blond man had worn when the nurse had asked to check his knuckles. "But if you're going to check yourself out, please wait until tomorrow at least. We'd like to get your prescription checked first..."


	7. Chapter 7 - The First Hurdle

**A/N : Once again, thank you to everyone who has read this story! I absolutely love hearing your feedback and figured with Wrestlemania coming up this weekend, I'd get my longest chapter to date back up after a little bit of reworking. Love you guys and thank you for reading, once again. I hope you enjoy it!**

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Raising her hand to her face, Lita gingerly pressed her fingertips to her bruised cheek, wincing when it stung. No amount of make-up hid the now slightly yellowing bruises which adorned her cheek and there was absolutely nothing to be done to her forehead – she was going to have to attend Armageddon looking a hot mess, like a proper brawler. There was nothing classy about the bruises on her face... The redhead allowed a sigh to escape her lips at the thought – the past three days had been long and tiring, spent between her hospital bed, the airport and, her current location, the Hilton Hotel and all she wanted to do was sleep, not get ready for her first pay-per-view as an out-and-out bastard.

The hospital had put up quite the fight in terms of discharging the diva, only allowing her to leave on Friday evening when Ric had put on quite the show at the hospital, the other three having already flown to Orlando to prepare for their matches. The flight she shared with the sixteen-time champion, despite being all expenses paid, was less than pleasant. She had begged him to let her go home before the pay-per-view, assuring him she would be in Orlando first thing on Sunday morning but, in true Evolution style, Ric had promised her that all she needed and more awaited her in the sunshine state before ushering her onto the plane and proceeding to sexually harass every female flight attendant he came across. While Ric downed whiskey after whiskey and became increasingly outrageous, Lita was left alone with her own worst enemy: her thoughts. She had never been a selfish person and had, in fact, spent much of her life trying to help people, yet it was helping someone who had gotten her in the physical mess she was in at that moment... A small part of her argued that the person she helped would have done the same for her, that he _had_ done the same for her but the rest of her – largely the bandaged or bruised parts – told her that it was better to be selfish. Either way, it only solidified the idea that she truly had become a fully-fledged member of Evolution...

Her hotel room was large, decked out in predominantly white, and flanked by Hunter and Ric's rooms, Dave and Randy further down the corridor. By her bed was the things she'd taken to Anaheim with her the previous week, her wrestling gear long forgotten at the bottom, where someone – she presumed Ric or Dave – had stashed them after the show.

Lita allowed her hand to drop from her face and turned away from the mirror. She had come to hate her reflection, long before the bruises had arrived. It was with a heavy sigh that she moved across the room and tentatively moved into a seated position on her bed. It was all her own fault, of course; she had no-one but Evolution and there was no one else she could blame. Not truthfully. She had chosen this life, no matter how she chalked it up. She cast a hopeful glance down at her cell phone which lay just to her side. She had expected at least one text from one of her former friends wondering how she was but that, it appeared, was expecting too much. She was painfully reminded of Hunter's words back at the hospital: "Ric and I were ambushed by your buddies." They had tried to stop them from saving her. They had prolonged the attack on Dave, Randy, and herself. A warm tear began a slow trail down her cheek as she lay back, her head coming to rest on her pillows. They had allowed her to end up in this mess. Not Hunter. Not Randy. Them. Her 'friends'.

Her eyes closed as she dried off her cheek, the lone tear being wiped aside by her thumb. It really had come to this and tomorrow she was going to prove it. Tomorrow she was going to accompany her new 'family' to ringside and she was going to watch as Kane and Goldberg were handed their revenge, even if she couldn't bring herself to choose Randy over Rob, no matter how betrayed and hurt she felt by the Battle Creek native. She was an Evolution member, yes, but she was still Lita. And Rob, he was still Rob. He'd never truly hurt her…had he? Full of conflicted feelings, the redhead turned to her side and attempted to sleep – she would need as much rest as possible for the pay-per-view – and it was in drowsing off to sleep that she received a single text message. 'Remember to take your painkillers. Randy.'

It was from a place of loneliness, she supposed, that she reached out to grab her phone. Loneliness and a small wave of confusion that came from the painkillers she was prescribed. Her fingers moved quickly over the buttons as she asked him to come over, something she regretted almost instantly. Why would he come to her hotel room? Why did she want him to? With a sigh she rolled her eyes, placing her cell down beside her; he wouldn't reply, of course. Tomorrow was the biggest night of his career so far – why would he want to waste the night before it chatting to her? Lita groaned inwardly at the very thought – she didn't want to chat to him, particularly. There wasn't much to say. All her questions about the previous week had been answered by Ric or by the re-watch of Raw she'd managed to catch that morning. So, when her cell phone lit up, the message on the screen telling her that Randy would be along in five, she forced herself to sit back up, to push back the covers and attempt to look like she knew what she was doing.

When the light knock finally came on her hotel room door, it took all her strength to push to her feet and cross the room to answer it. Dressed in baggy Nike shorts and an old, faded t-shirt, Randy Orton looked ready for a round at the gym, though the bruising around his eye and the cut on his forehead said otherwise. Opening the door wide enough to let him in, Lita nodded in greeting. This wasn't exactly a normal situation for either of them and she wasn't entirely sure how she was supposed to go about it. "You're looking better," Randy acknowledged as he entered the room, hovering at the end of her now un-made bed.

"Wouldn't be hard, though, would it?" she asked, closing the door, and wincing as she motioned for him to take a seat.

"Hunter said you had to forfeit the match tomorrow." He couldn't quite meet her eye as he spoke, sitting on the very edge of the bed and picking at his thumbnail. "That sucks." It had broken her heart when Ric had suggested it, promising that she would have a chance at the title when she was back to health, when she was ready. When she could win. She'd known, deep down, that there was no way she could wrestle, yet it had hurt to be told she had no say in the matter. Hunter had already spoken to Eric Bischoff, who had replaced her faster than she could say 'Evolution'.

"Trish is the number one contender now." It was fair to say that their conversations had rarely been record breaking, yet she had never felt so tense speaking to the youngest member of Evolution. She had resolved herself to being just like him, yet they were worlds apart and, even if she had found an inexplicable soft spot for the St. Louis native, there was something she couldn't quite put her finger on, something about him that made her uneasy.

"I'm sorry," he replied, finally meeting her eye. The grey shadows below his eyes she'd noticed on Wednesday were still present and his shoulders were slumped in defeat.

"It's not your fault," she replied, a small voice in the back of her mind reeling off a list of those whose fault it was. _Goldberg, Chris Jericho, Christian, Kane._

"No. It is. If I'd handled it out there, you wouldn't have got in the ring and…" motioning vaguely to her body, he trailed off. "None of this would have happened. I know it, Hunter knows it, Dave knows it… Hell, even Ric knows it. I was the weak link."

Lita scoffed, certain that this was some sort of joke. She wound up in hospital yet she was supposed to feel sorry for Randy? "Are you kidding me?" she replied, an eyebrow raising and causing pain to shoot through her forehead. "You did the best you could. How were you to see any of that coming?"

"You did. We watched it back – at the hospital. On Tuesday. You saw Kane, you knew what game he was playing –"

"And I did nothing, I get it. You still think I'm not working as a team, yeah?!" Before she could launch into a tirade, she looked back at the man on her bed who was shaking his head, a weak, humourless laugh escaping him.

"Pretty safe to say those bruises you're sporting are proof that you're a team player. I just meant that I was distracted, I wasn't paying attention. If I had, none of this would have happened and now we're going into Armageddon on the back foot. Hunter says it's alright, that we'll still be okay, but seeing you in that hospital bed…" Swallowing thickly, he cracked his knuckles. "I shouldn't have let you get in that position. I said I don't want you at ringside tomorrow, but Hunter told me that wasn't an option."

"Why?" This was not how she had expected the evening to go when she'd asked him over – there was a multitude of scenarios which could have gone down but this, this vulnerable version of Randy trying to apologise… that had not been one of them.

"Says we need to show a united front. What's more united than you being in my corner when I pin your friend?"

She had been about to respond, to tell him that that wasn't what she was questioning – she wanted to know why he was trying to ban her from ringside – but hearing him refer to Rob as her friend stopped her. "A friend would have called by now," she said, her voice quiet as she finally took a seat, her back aching at just the strain of standing up. She hadn't thought of it until now – sure, Rob hadn't hurt her, but he hadn't helped her, either. "None of them have called. I didn't expect them to but, I don't know, Rob was different. Him or Lilian, I thought they'd check to make sure I was okay or…"

It was like just saying the words had made her colder, and she hugged her arms around her body, eyes trained on their feet, Randy's sneakers planted firmly on the floor beside her fluffy socks. "You don't need them. You've got us. You've got Evolution," he replied, the warmth of his arm flooding her as it settled around her shoulder.

"At what cost? I've lost everyone…."

"When you rise to the top, you have to make sacrifices. It's just part of being in Evolution," his voice sounded strained as he spoke, and if it weren't for his arm steadying her, holding her in place, she'd have turned to face him.

"What did you sacrifice, then?"

"Nothing." The steeliness to that one word took her by surprise, given how calm he'd been just seconds before. "Doesn't matter."

For a second, they sat in silence, the diva leaning in slightly as she placed her head on his shoulder. "You don't have to be sorry, you know? I made my own decision to get in the ring. I would have done it regardless of whether I thought you could handle it or not. And I did. I do. But Kane's a different breed – he's something different, unpredictable. And whether it was you or Dave or Ric or Hunter, I'd still have put myself in that position," she found herself assuring him. If he thought it was his fault, it was like he owed it to her to protect her and tomorrow night, when he stepped in the ring with Rob, she wanted his attentions to be fully on the match.

"Bullshit," he replied, though another soft, breathy laugh followed it. Pulling back slightly, he removed his arm from her shoulders, the Diva frowning slightly at the lack of contact. In recent weeks, it had felt as though no one had wanted to touch her, to be near her, and for a few moments, it had been nice just to be held. Twisting slightly, Randy pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, offering a small smile. "Thanks, though." Her eyes trained on his mouth, she nodded. It was stupid, but for a fraction of a second, she'd wanted nothing more than to lean in, to close the gap between them and press her lips to his, just to feel wanted, just to feel real. "I better go. I need to be ready for the match tomorrow," his words cut through her thoughts, dragging her back to reality and Lita couldn't help but feel a little bit ashamed. She'd forgotten herself. And, most importantly, she'd forgotten who he was. "And so do you. I can't have you passing out in my corner." Pushing to his feet, Randy nodded at her, the soft smile she'd seen moments before already fading, the vulnerability long gone. "I'll get the door. Goodnight Lita." And, just like that, she was left alone once more.

* * *

By the time the lights of the arena had dimmed and the pyrotechnics had been tested, Lita was a bundle of nerves. Ric had helped her walk to Gorilla, where she stood, shaking every time Mark Henry or Teddy Long cast the two of them a glance. "Lita? Lita?" Ric snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, shaking her from the trance she had been in. "Lita for God's sake we don't have time for this." She flinched away from his fingers and stared at the older man, the vein in his forehead pulsing. She hadn't noticed until now but Ric looked stressed. Very stressed. It took her a few seconds to realise that they were alone in gorilla, Mark and Teddy – as well as Booker – all having left the area to begin their match in the ring.

"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip nervously. "I was just in... I was distracted."

"You heard the champ, Princess. We can't have any distractions tonight," Ric replied, adjusting his well-tailored suit, fiddling with the button as he closed and opened the jacket. "This is your chance as much as it is Randy's you know?" Lita's eyebrow quirked and she winced almost instantly. _Need to stop doing that..._ "This is your chance to prove to Hunt that you're loyal to us. After that little outburst at the hospital..."

"I know..." Randy's assurance the previous night that her bumps and bruises had been enough to prove to Evolution she was one of them rang in her ears, though she knew no one believed it.

"So, you know what to do, then?" Her brows furrowed. "You've got to make sure that Randy wins. No matter what happens, Randy Orton has to be crowned the new WWE Intercontinental Champion tonight."

"You want me to cheat." She said simply. There was no defiance, no arguing. That's what she was, now. A cheat.

"We want you to make sure Randy wins," Ric shrugged, finally deciding that his jacket was best left open. "Do the right thing, Lita." He gave her a knowing stare, which made him look almost cross eyed. But the intensity of his stare left the second footsteps could be heard, Ric's head snapping around to where Randy stood, adjusting the waistband of his wrestling shorts. "You ready champ?"

Randy's top lip curled a little, exposing a slither of pearly, white teeth. "You bet," he said, shaking his arms a little, easing out the tension in his shoulders. "And you?" he said, turning to Lita. "You taken those painkillers? You've got to be one hundred percent out there – no flaking on me, now."

Lita's jaw fell as she glared at the young man. "I was hardly flaking out on you last week when I was getting you out of a chokeslam, was I?"

"That wasn't against your buddy Rob, was it?" Randy replied and Lita narrowed her eyes at him. How dare he suggest that she would betray Evolution? In her mind, she scoffed. Just weeks before, she would have done anything to make sure Randy Orton lost this match and yet here she was, keen to prove to him how loyal she was. "Look, I was only kidding. But if you don't want to do this, we can tell Hunter you're in too much pain. Ric can come down with me." There was a hint of the softness and vulnerability she had heard the previous night and she looked away from him.

"It's fine," she said, swallowing and pushing herself off of the crate she had been leaning against. "I'll escort you to the ring." She raked a hand through her hair and exhaled. "That's Booker's music though...I... I think their match is over."

Ric grinned from ear to ear. "Knew you wouldn't let us down, Princess," he said, clapping a hand on Randy's shoulder. A moment of silence passed as the three waited for Booker, Mark and Teddy to pass them. "Make Evolution proud, Champ." Ric said, once the stage hand gave them a signal to go through the curtain.

And, with that, Randy and Lita made their way out onto the ramp, a cocky grin plastered all over Randy's face as he strode ahead, leaving Lita to limp down on her own. He had already reached the bottom of the ramp when he remembered her injured leg and the third-generation superstar paused as he waited for her to catch up, looking thoroughly bored as Motorhead's 'Line in The Sand' played on. Turning momentarily to gauge how far back she was, Randy was surprised to see her so close. "You alright?" he asked, almost inaudibly over the fans booing as she drew level, the diva nodding in response. After that, the self-proclaimed 'Legend Killer' made a great show of helping her to the steps, of making sure she was safely atop the canvas and pushing down the ropes to make her entrance easier on her battered body. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he clambered onto the turnbuckle to make his trademark pose. He was going to have to help her down, now. His arms spread wide, the Legend Killer snarled at the crowd, looking every bit the imposing wrestler but, as soon as One of a Kind began to blare from the huge speakers either side of the titantron, he returned to the gentleman he had been moments before, jumping back onto the canvas and helping Lita onto the steps.

"Get back in the ring," she said through gritted teeth as she moved herself down the steps and onto the ringside area where she propped herself up against the canvas. The look she drew him was not the look of pure poison he expected, but of encouragement which made the corners of his own lips curl slightly as a smile attempted to spread across his face.

After that, his attention was drawn from the redhead and focused on the Battle Creek native who had entered the ring. This was it. This was his chance to prove himself. To prove that he wasn't just Bob Orton's son, to prove that he was a champion and, most importantly, that he was worthy to be in Evolution. The twenty-three-year-old swallowed and continued to watch Rob. Rob Van Dam. The man who had, if rumours were to be believed, harboured a small crush on Lita before her 'turn to the dark side'. The same man who, just weeks after said turn, had aided in an attack on Randy and Batista which led to Lita being smashed through an announce table. Randy shook his head. This had nothing to do with Lita. This was about him. And Rob. And that title. The third-generation superstar rolled his neck as the two waited, staring each other down, for the special guest referee to arrive.

Foley, as was to be expected, arrived with a bang. The fans were almost deafening in their glee as he bounded down the ramp, high fiving the younger fans who lined the barrier. And yet none of this disconcerted Randy, who continued to watch Rob through narrowed eyes, Foley a mere blur in his peripheral vision. As the ring bell sounded and the match began, everything else went out of his mind. He didn't think about Hunter's demand that he bring home the gold, he didn't think about keeping the injured diva at ringside safe and he most certainly did not think about the strip-club he was going to be frequenting once the pay-per-view was over. All thoughts were focussed on Rob.

Lita watched with bated breath as Randy and Rob began to trash talk, their words deafened by the fans though she could surmise that at least one of the jibes or comments had been about her. Randy rolled his eyes as, alongside the fans, Rob began to chant his own name but, by the time he reached the third syllable, Randy's boot had connected with his stomach, making the Battle Creek native double over in pain, Lita wincing as he did.

As the wrestlers in the ring exchanged blows, kicks and derogatory slurs, Lita watched on, her stomach churning the longer the match wore on. Her mind – such a traitor – was filled with memories of times spent with Rob, of evenings spent eating pineapple and cheese pizza and watching old comedies, of days spent in the gym working on her fitness as she prepared to return to the ring, of jokes and laughter, of friendship. _And then there's Randy._ The former Women's Champion watched as both of Randy's feet left the canvas as he connected with a dropkick, Rob shaking the canvas as his body fell from impact. _Randy was a member of Evolution and, therefore, he represented all that was wrong in wrestling._ He moved in for the pin, Foley duly counting. _He represented corruption and cheating._ ONE. _He represented bias and favouritism._ TWO. _He was friends with Triple H for goodness' sake..._ Rob kicked out of the pin, showing everyone in attendance that it would take more than a dropkick to finish off the current champion.

The redhead flinched as Randy's fist connected with the canvas, the young man looking livid. In next to no time, however, he was back to his feet, ready to attack. _He's not all that bad,_ thought Lita as the two locked up for the umpteenth time in the match. _He did save you...More than once. And last night you wanted to kiss him…_ She shifted her weight between her feet, wincing as she did. The diva swallowed. _Need to up the dosage on those painkillers tonight..._

She looked up, dragging her mind from her leg, just in time to watch Rob throw Randy over the top rope, the third-generation superstar landing on the hard flooring by the ring. She wasn't quite sure what compelled her nor where she found the strength but, in mere seconds, she was by his side, a thin hand reaching out to grip his shoulder as he grabbed the barrier, hauling himself up into an almost standing position. "Come on, Randy," she said, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Back in there."

Her words were lost on him, however, as Rob cannonballed over the top rope, the champion landing on Randy whose head clattered against the barrier, the diva being thrown to the side and letting out a cry of pain as her leg seemed to burn. Perhaps it had been her shrill cry or perhaps he had been biding his time, hoping for a moment to speak to her but regardless of the motivation, Lita found herself cast in shadow as Rob stood before her. "Lita..." he said, his arms open, a remorseful look in his eyes.

 _ONE..._ Mick began the count-out.

"Stay away from me," she gasped, scooting backwards. If truth be told – and in Evolution, it so rarely was – she wasn't sure where the sudden sense of fear came from. All she knew was that she was defenceless and on the floor while Rob, who had caused her fall, loomed over her.

 _TWO..._

"Lita I didn't mean...Please," he extended a hand, offering to help her up but the redhead eyed him warily. "Lita..."

 _THREE..._

"Get away from me, Rob. I mean it..."

 _FOUR..._

"Don't be like this. Please, I'm sorry..." And he truly did look sorry, holding out an unwanted, slightly shaking hand, his eyes full of sorrow and regret.

 _FIVE..._

"I said 'get away'..." her voice shook as she scooted back some more, though Rob made no attempt to close the gap between them, the wrestler standing alone and rejected as his opponent began to stir.

 _SIX..._

"I didn't realise how close you were..."

 _SEVEN..._

Lita frowned. What in the name of God is that supposed to mean? She and Randy weren't close and it was preposterous to claim they – OH. Lita's mind finally caught up as she realised he had meant the physical distance between the two. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Randy was almost to his feet, now; even if he was having to use the barrier to hold himself up. "Get back in the ring!" she called across to him. "Get back in the ring – BOTH of you!"

 _EIGHT..._

Rob looked down at the woman who seemed genuinely distraught at the idea of a count-out. _Of course she is,_ she could almost see the realization dawn on Rob. _Orton can't win with a count-out._ He stalled for a fraction of a second before walking towards Randy and, with all the force he could muster, threw him towards the canvas, the taller man rolling under the bottom rope and back into the ring. Climbing between the ropes, Rob followed suit to end the count-out.

Lita exhaled as the two returned to trading blows, using the time they spent in headlocks and roll ups to pull herself towards the barrier and, just as Randy had done, she used the sturdy black barrier to haul herself to her feet. It took the diva much longer to walk from the security wall to the canvas than it should have, enough time for Randy to apply a front face lock into a DDT, Rob's face smashing into the matt as Lita finally gripped onto the apron. Rob was out, no doubt about that, but Randy was struggling to stir. "Come on, Randy," she found herself calling, urging him to move, to pin the current champion. To win.

Slowly but surely, Randy dragged himself closer to the champion, slugging one arm over him as he moved to cover his body and Mick, once again, began a three count. Surprisingly, the former Women's Champion felt as though her heart was in her throat as the legend of hardcore Mick Foley brought his hand down to count the 'three'. Randy was going to be champion. He was going to -

He wasn't going to do anything, just yet. Not while Rob's hand clutched at the bottom rope, ending the three count.

The diva exhaled a long breath she hadn't been aware she was holding as Randy slumped to the side, dejected and aware that he had very little energy and momentum left. Mick shifted to the corner as both men got to their feet unsteadily, Randy just a fraction of a second behind Rob who delivered a spinning kick to his sternum. The champion was running purely on instinct now, throwing kicks in all directions, some connecting with the number one contender while others fell on flat air. After one particularly energetic kick, both men lay flat on the matt, Randy seeing stars while Rob did his best to catch his breath.

But, soon enough, Rob was on the top rope, preparing to end the match. Randy was still out of it, from what Lita could see; the young man lying, unmoving in the centre of the ring as Rob set himself up for the Five Star Frog Splash. She knew what she had to do. The diva clambered onto the apron, screaming at Rob, at Randy and at Mick who, as referee, was forced to urge her from her position, giving Randy a split second to capitalize. And capitalize he did. It appeared that Rob wasn't the only participant in the match working on sheer instinct and momentum alone as Randy executed a perfect dropkick to Rob who landed astride the turnbuckle before falling to the canvas, his hands clutching at his genitals as he writhed in pain.

Once again, Lita's heart soared and she instantly jumped from the apron, cursing herself for doing such a thing as her weight pressed down on her injured leg. Once sure that Lita would be of no bother or distraction, Mick turned back to the ring where Rob was – for the umpteenth time – getting to his feet but Randy was much faster than he, the St. Louis native striking at almost lightning speed as he hit his finishing manoeuvre – the R.K.O.

For three seconds, Lita held her breath and her heart pounded each time Mick's hand beat the canvas. Once. Twice. Thrice. And suddenly she felt sick.

He had done it. Randy Orton was the new Intercontinental Champion and, damn, did he know it. The twenty-three-year-old collapsed to his knees almost the second Mick handed him the title, his head pressed against the canvas and the belt clutched close to his chest as he began to cry. She knew he would be chided for it, that Hunter and Dave and Ric would most likely make him regret behaving like such a fool but he had won. He was a champion. He was Randy Orton – Intercontinental Champion. And then he felt it – the tug on his hand as Lita tried to pull him to his feet. "You did it, champ," she said softly as he attempted to move into a standing position, his legs giving way on his first try. "Come on." She encouraged as, finally, he made it to his feet, the diva tugging at his title belt.

Looking back on it, she would never understand what possessed her to do it but she would always blame it on the adrenaline from the match because, inexplicably, she found herself fastening the title around Randy's waist of her own accord, grabbing his hand and, though her ribs screamed in protest at the movement, holding it high in victory as the crowd erupted, making their anger at the new champion obvious.


	8. Chapter 8 - Never What It Seems

**A/N: And here we are, chapter 8! I've finally finished university for the year so I'm clear to make my little edits, change some chapters and, most importantly, CONTINUE this story! I truly do love writing it and I have a few ideas as to where its going so I can't wait to take it in a new direction! I hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I do writing it. And, please, if you like it - or even if you don't - please leave me a lil review and let me know.**

* * *

"I've never done that before," she said softly, her voice little more than a whisper. "I've never helped someone win a title by cheating..." The only other person in the room appeared not to hear her as he stared down at his new title belt as though it were made of gold. "I mean, maybe what Matt, Jeff and I did in the past had dubious legality but...I was never aware I was doing it, you know? I never knew I was intentionally cheating to..." She trailed off, knowing that Randy couldn't hear her. Just ten minutes before, she had helped him win the Intercontinental Championship and, while the other three members of Evolution were at gorilla waiting for Dave's match against Shawn Michaels to begin, the two had been left alone in the locker room to cool down and get changed.

"Did you say something?" Randy asked, his hands trailing across the cool, metal plate which lay in the centre of the belt. Lita shook her head. "I can't believe it...I'm champion. I gotta call my dad..." She noted that, while he said he had to, he never reached for his cell causing the diva to question whether his father would appreciate the call or not. Silence fell between the two as he returned to staring at his belt, his index finger tracing the name plate which would soon read 'Randy Orton'. "Thanks, by the way. I shoulda said it out there but..."

"But you were too caught up in the moment," she finished for him, laughing. "I cried for over an hour after I won my first title. Jeff and Matt still mock me for it. Or they would. If we were still friends..."

"You didn't have to do it -" Randy began, but Lita cut him off.

"If you're going to tell me that you had the match won then don't bother. We both know if the Frog-splash had connected you wouldn't have recovered."

"I was talking about the fact that he was your friend but..." Randy trailed off, before piping up again, a cocky grin on his face. "What do you mean I wouldn't have recovered? I'm Randy Orton – Intercontinental Champion. Of course I would've recovered."

"Sure you would've," the diva laughed, wincing almost instantly afterwards as a shot of pain racked through her ribs. She leaned across to grab her bag from the arm of the sofa and began rooting around until she found her painkillers. She tried to turn the cap to open the bottle but found she had very little strength and, though she tried three or four times, she made no difference to the tightness of the cap.

"Let me get it," Randy said and, suddenly, he was much too close. He took the bottle of painkillers from her and, with an ease which made her feel incredibly pathetic, opened it, handing both the bottle and the cap back to her before throwing himself onto the sofa beside her. It was like being under the watchful eye of Big Brother as she took two painkillers from the bottle and, taking a sip of water from the bottle beside her, swallowed them. The diva turned once she had placed the cap back on the bottle, planning to put the prescription back into her bag but found herself inches from Randy who, it seemed, had been studying her intently. "Thanks," he repeated for the second time.

"You said that," Lita replied, avoiding eye contact as she reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He was far too close for her liking now. Her hands grew clammy and her heartbeat soared as the handsome twenty three year old leaned in to close the gap between their lips. For a moment, time seemed to stop, the only thing certain for the redhead being the thumping of her heart which seemed likely to burst through her chest as his lips ghosted against her own. Strong hands moved forward, holding her head in place as he pulled back from the kiss.

"So, I'm thinking you and Dave should be waiting at gorilla in case anything happens during my match tonight," Hunter's voice boomed as the door of the locker room swung open.

"Hunt," said Randy, not missing a beat as he straightened up, his hand still cupping her face. "Come here and see Lita's eye, I think Rob might've connected with that stupid cannonball trick he pulled earlier.

And, as Hunter moved across the room in a few short strides to see what damage had been done, Lita had never been more pleased to see him. Or more disappointed.

* * *

The night had continued in a blur, Lita only vaguely aware of the matches which followed Randy's as Hunter, Dave and Ric filtered in and out of the locker room. It was difficult to concentrate on the television, where Trish Stratus lost her chance to become Women's Champion, when her mind insisted on repeating the events from earlier in the evening. She had tried to watch, to focus on the ref holding up Molly Holly's hand in victory, but her hand moved, unbidden, towards her lips, the pad of her index finger rubbing along the bottom one, mirroring where Randy's own had been earlier. "You alright, Princess?" Ric asked, the shiny title belt in his hand the only indicator that he had been in a match for the diva. Had she congratulated him? She couldn't remember. Perhaps she'd congratulated Dave, at some point. "You've been staring at that screen with a blank face for near on ten minutes. Don't you worry, though, it'll be you next time. You'll win."

"Huh?" an eyebrow raised as she turned to face him properly. "Oh, the match. Yeah."

"You sure Rob didn't do serious damage? You seem pretty spaced…" Randy asked, the third-generation superstar showered and fully dressed, spread languidly across the sofa across from her. She wanted to hurt him, to throw something at him and ask how on earth he could be so relaxed after he'd kissed her, but instead she shook her head, hand dropping from her lips as she turned back to face the screen again. "Well you better shake out of it, Lita. Hunter's going out there to win, tonight. Clean sweep. All four male titles on Raw coming home to Evolution. He's gonna wanna party."

"I don't think I'm up to partying, just yet," she said, eyes flickering between the television, where Hunter was making his way down to the ring, and Ric, searching for some sort of sign of approval. "I'm still on some pretty strong painkillers and I don't know if I'll be up for Raw if I go out on them and, I mean, surely that's more important, right? Showing a united front tomorrow, when you guys all have your titles?" She sounded almost pleading as she glanced again at Ric, hoping he would allow her a night off, that he wouldn't force her to socialise with them. Though she'd grown some sort of connection to her new faction, she needed some time to herself, time to think about the mess she'd gotten herself into.

"You're right there," Ric replied, his eyes trained to the television. He had been pacing the room since Hunter and Dave had left, the shuffling of his boots on the flooring a constant echo in the background of Lita's daydreaming. Was he nervous? She wondered. Did he think Hunter wouldn't win? Swallowing hard, she stiffened as Finger Eleven's Slow Chemical filled the arena, and the man who had near snapped her in half began his descent to the ring. Hunter had to win. He had to show Kane and Goldberg that they couldn't mess with Evolution, that they couldn't hurt her like that. And besides, Dave was at the ring. He had this. "Now shut up, you two, we gotta watch this."

For the first time since Randy kissed her, Lita was alert, her hands fisted in her lap as she watched the match, begging for Kane to face retribution. She'd never thought that the World Heavyweight Title contest would mean so much to her but for every left and right Kane took, her heart soared. The locker room was tense, on more than one occasion as they watched Goldberg or Kane move in for the pin, all three of them making audible noises of relief when the count was broken, and though some of them were dubiously long two-counts none of them complained. She wasn't sure when she pulled her legs to her chest, arms wrapping around them as she ignored the pain in her lower back but as Batista hauled Kane from the ring, she found herself gripping her legs painfully hard. Nails dug crescent moons into her legs as she watched, elated, as Hunter cheated to win, the three-count signalling that the title had changed hands.

* * *

The evening's events had drained Lita, who had returned to her hotel room after Raw, leaving her fellow Evolution members to head out to celebrate. Nestled amongst the pillows, she willed the painkillers to finally kick in, to allow the knots in her back to disappear and to let her find some peace in sleep, but even if they could work, could alleviate the pain she was in, they would do nothing to shut down her brain and stop it from replaying that kiss over and over. Since Dave had seen her to her door, ensuring she made it back to her room safely, she had been alone with her thoughts – horrible, traitorous thoughts which all seemed to hate Hunter for interrupting. Would she have kissed him back, if they'd been alone for longer? Did she want to? There was no denying that he was an attractive man, or that he had shown her kindness in the smallest ways, ways that helped her feel more part of Evolution than anything else. And yet… Sighing, she eased herself onto her side, wriggling until she could make herself comfortable. She wasn't some silly little girl, she knew better than to fall for a pair of pretty blue eyes and a few gentlemanly moves; that was the sort of thing that girls like Stacy Keibler or Torrie Wilson fell for. She was better than that. Wasn't she?

For years, she'd thought herself above those girls, the girls who revelled in bra and panties matches and contented themselves with the male attention they received for their looks as opposed to their athletic ability. But now, as she lay in bed, unable to take her mind off of the new Intercontinental Champion, she wasn't so sure how they differed. She hung around at the side of the apron, helped some stupid wrestler win their matches and was happy to take the scraps he gave her in the form of attention. Letting out a frustrated groan, she rolled onto her back once more. It's the medication, she told herself, thinking of the cocktail of painkillers that were currently coursing through her bloodstream. If you weren't on such strong painkillers, you'd have pushed him away. Your reflexes aren't so good right now. You're better than this.

Reaching for the television remote, Lita flicked turned on the first channel available, eyes trained on the infomercial which lit up the room as an ultra-peppy television presenter tried her best to convince the audience that she had been using the Dust Buster 3000 for months already. It had been something she'd done for years, watching the late night shopping channels or after-hours infomercials when she couldn't sleep, the monotony of it all helping her drift off, and soon enough, thoughts of Randy Orton slipped from her mind as she fell into a slumber, her body relaxing for the first time in hours.

It couldn't have been much later when she jolted awake, the bang of a nearby door tearing her from her dreams. For a few seconds, she lay, disorientated and confused, in silence. Her dream had been nice, though it slipped away from her with every waking second, and the memory of the beach setting, the warm sun on her skin and the sand between her toes, drifted away as consciousness filtered in once more. Stretching, the redhead rolled onto her side, grabbing at her phone, and wincing away from the screen as she checked the time. Thirteen minutes past four read the screen and Lita sighed. She couldn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. Tossing her phone aside once more, she stretched out, cursing whoever it was that had woken her. Who was it the reception had said was nearby – Dave? Yes, she thought, it sounded like the door had near come off its hinges. Only someone with his strength could cause that sort of chaos.

I can whine at him tomorrow, she thought, wrapping herself amongst the pillows and covers, desperate to recover the cosiness she had found earlier. Maybe over breakfast. With thoughts of breakfast on her mind, Lita smiled to herself, her eyes already starting to feel heavy, but as sleep began to creep in, she was snapped awake, a high, breathy moan of 'Randy' echoing through the wall. "Mother of God…" she muttered, pulling a pillow over her head to try and block out the noise of Randy's companion, thoughts of castrating Dave quickly gone. While the pillow muted the sound coming from next door, the female voice quickly joined by a steady rhythm of a headboard against the wall, it did nothing to mute her thoughts or the strange tug which she felt in her stomach or the disappointment which threatened to choke her. What did she have to be disappointed about? She chastised herself, swallowing down the strange, confusing thoughts. It was only a kiss…


	9. Chapter 9 - Dazed and Confused

**A/N: I say it every time but I am so sorry it's taken so long for me to update. Work and real life have been so hectic that, even without university kicking my as I haven't got near this place. BUT I've started making my little tweaks and I already have the next chapter ready for you guys but, first, I'll hit y'all with this! As always, I love to hear your feedback: what do you like? what do you dislike? what do you hope to see? Anything you feel or think, please let me know - that way, I can make this my masterpiece! Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!**

* * *

It had been a long time since Lita had had what most people would call 'boy trouble'. Sure, there had been that sort of flirtation Christian had been working on, but she had nipped that in the bud before anything had really grown, and what had happened between her and Matt just a couple of weeks ago could hardly be considered your regular 'boy trouble'. Most people's definitions of that term didn't include being smashed in the face with a steel cage door and being publicly humiliated and fired from your dream job. Usually, in these scenarios, she would go to Trish and, over breakfast or on the way to the arena, they would talk it out and Trish would give her some sort of pep talk which usually involved at least one of those 'inspirational quotes' often found in glitter cursive online, all of which equated to how Lita didn't need a man. But she couldn't go to Trish this time. Gentle Trish who, deep down, had never hated someone so long as Lita had known her. Well, she hated someone now.

And even if she could go to her, Lita reasoned, swallowing down the painkillers she had been prescribed a few days before, what could she say? That Randy Orton, known womaniser and all round vile human was exactly what they had thought he was? With a groan, she closed her eyes, giving herself a minute before pushing to her feet. She had to speak to him – she was an adult, after all – and she needed to clear things up with him. It had been a big night for everyone and the adrenaline levels had been more than high… Swallowing, she grabbed her room key and her purse and, slowly and tentatively, she left her room. It wasn't personal, really. She'd thought about it in the shower that morning – it wasn't that she particularly cared about Randy. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more obvious it was that she didn't even know him. Their conversations were always about work, about Evolution, about her injuries or maladies or whatever else she'd gotten herself into and, really, that alone told her it wasn't personal. She wasn't drawn to him because of who he was; she was drawn to him because she was lonely, because she was on a lot of painkillers and, though she hated to admit it, because he was a handsome man who spent a lot of time around her. And he'd been kind. It didn't make him a good person, or one she'd choose to be around were the circumstances different, but it made sense, she figured. These thoughts comforted her as the elevator played it's tinny, old fashioned music during her descent and, by the time she was spat out into the parking lot, she felt almost better.

Having missed breakfast due to lack of sleep, and the pasta dish she had ordered on room service for lunch growing cold and rubbery on her bedside table, Lita's stomach growled as she walked towards the limit. Food didn't sit well when she'd slept so little, especially not when she was so wound up, but she was ravenous now and as she opened the door, she hoped there would be some sort of food she could eat before the others arrived.

"Shut the door, for God's sake," Batista's voice echoed through the parking lot almost the second the door opened, letting in a stream of light from the bright strip lights overhead. "My head is pounding." As she slipped into the back of the car, it was an effort not to respond that his wasn't the only one, instead muttering that she could have brought some painkillers, making herself comfortable across from him. She was the last one to arrive and, though no one asked, she began concocting a thousand excuses as to why. 'Because I couldn't stop thinking about Randy' was not one of them. Hunter, behind dark sunglasses, nodded his head in recognition, but said nothing, while Ric looked rather green around the gills beside him. Orton, however, looked ready to take on the world, his dark suit perfectly tailored to his long legs, the Intercontinental Championship taking up all of his attention as he ran a finger across the newly attached name plate which boasted his name.

"Good night?" she asked, forcing herself to look at anyone else. _You're lonely, you're filled with painkillers, you just want someone to be nice._ She repeated it like a mantra in her head as Hunter nodded, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

"You could say that," he replied, sounding tired, as though 'good' for Evolution equated to 'heavy'. Having never drank with them, she could only imagine that it did. "You missed out. Didn't she boys?" A mumble of agreement left Batista, though the other two didn't reply.

"Sounds like I did."

As the limo pulled off, the men fell silent, leaving Lita to stare out of the window, watching as the parking lot dissolved into a dark blue and grey wash of the night outside. It was going to be a long night, she knew, and it hadn't even begun.

* * *

The locker room, as expected, was decked out lavishly, a widescreen television taking up almost all of one wall, while white flowers stood in crystal vases either end of the two leather sofas and Lita carefully navigated her way to a seat. Perhaps it was the fatigue or the hunger, but even the trip from the limo to the locker room had exhausted her, her ribs protesting with every step and she wondered how on Earth she had managed the night before. _Adrenaline_ , she reminded herself, both the best and worst thing to happen to her the previous night. "I'll go get the match card, get some water, sort myself out," Ric said, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. It was the first words Lita had heard him say that evening and she hated herself for smiling when he let out a feeble 'woo'. "Big night ahead of us, after all."

As Ric headed back out of the door, off to find Bischoff or 'sort himself out' or whatever it was he planned, the others made themselves comfortable, Randy shrugging off his suit jacket while Dave took a seat, Hunter laughing as the door swung closed. "Tag team champion at fifty-four," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Who'd have thought it? He can still party with the best of us."

"Just takes him a bit longer to recover," Dave added, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Says the guy who almost cried when I opened the door earlier," Lita replied, turning on the Animal with a jovial smile. It was a strange feeling, that sense of camaraderie which filled her as she teased him. "I'd place good money on Ric drinking you under the table." For a moment, she embraced it, allowing herself to feel a part of things and as Randy and Hunter laughed, she nudged Dave with her foot. For a moment, she could ignore the conflicting feelings towards the men and simply allow herself to relax. A small nagging voice told her that was another side-effect of the painkillers, but it was definitely one of the preferable ones.

The four members of Evolution had barely any time to further engage in jokes, however, as Ric returned, his face set in stone. "Got some good and bad news," he said, holding out a piece of paper with the evening's match card on it. From their seated positions, Lita and Dave couldn't see the 'good and bad news' but Hunter's lips pressed into a thin line as he read it.

"Is Foley fucking serious?" he asked, his voice gravelly, low, and dangerous and, even though Lita was almost certain she wouldn't be on the opposite end of his wrath, she felt her blood run cold.

"Hunter, what is it?" Dave asked, sitting a little straighter, a little more alert. Randy dragged his attention from his cell, looking up at Hunter with bright blue eyes filled with concern.

"You've got a match, kid," the blond man replied, removing his sunglasses, and looking towards the new Intercontinental champion. "You and Foley in the Main Event." Orton let out a low whistle, but showed no other sign of worry. In fact, he looked almost relieved.

Was that the bad news? Lita could think of worse, personally, and she looked towards the other occupants of the room. "And the rest of you?"

"Tag match. Three of us versus Michaels, Van Dam and Goldberg," Ric replied calmly, shrugging off any worry or concern. "I've already spoken to Bischoff, he's taking care of it." So, they were really concerned about Mick Foley? That was the problem? Lita raised an eyebrow, wondering if the alcohol was still messing with Ric's brain. There were a hundred, thousand other possibilities, many of which had flashed through her mind in those few seconds before he'd explained.

"He thinks he can just insert himself into matches now?" Hunter asked. Taking a deep breath, his chest heaved and Lita, for just a moment, almost pitied Mick Foley. She'd rarely seen Hunter so irate at the hands of anyone other than Goldberg. Not in recent memory, anyway. "We'll see about that." Without waiting for fanfare or comment, Hunter left, Ric hot on his heels as the door swung behind them, leaving the other three in their wake.

"I thought Van Dam had evoked his rematch clause," Randy said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "But Foley? Some old has been with an ego complex?" With a scoff, he shook his head. "It's like having a night off."

"I wouldn't go that far, kid," Dave replied, pushing to his feet. Lita could have sworn the sofa sighed in relief. "Foley can pull a lot of strings these days and Hunt will expect you at ringside for our match, if you're not banned." Rolling his neck, he grabbed one of the duffel bags sitting by the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go get ready."

As the larger man left the room, Lita turned her attention to Randy, glad to have him alone. "What are you playing at?" she demanded, staring at the young man in disbelief. Lazily, he dragged his own attention from the belt in front of him, which he still stroked absent-mindedly, even when his eyes were cast elsewhere. When he raised one shoulder in a barely-visible shrug, Lita glared in disbelief. "Well?!"

"Well, what?" Randy replied, sounding almost bored. "He's almost twice my age. He hasn't wrestled properly in years and last time he was here, I kicked him down the stairs. I have no reason to be worried." She wanted to argue with him, to tell him that his over-confidence would come back and bite him in the ass, that Mick Foley was ten times the wrestler he would ever be, but she couldn't – that was a fight for another day and, truthfully, what he had said wasn't wrong.

"I don't mean about Foley, you fucking idiot," she replied instead, her words barely more than a whisper. "I mean last night."

"What about it?"

"You kissed me!"

"Did I?" The corners of his lips twisted into a smirk, an eyebrow quirked in her direction, the dark-haired man shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back on the sofa, eyes never leaving her. "I can't remember that. You'll need to refresh my memory."

Taking a deep breath, Lita waited to respond. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she hated herself for even bringing it up, for thinking they could have a civil conversation about this. "Randy, don't," she warned, holding her hand up to silence him. She wanted to slap him, to shake him and demand he be honest, instead she clenched her other hand into a fist, counting backwards from three before speaking again. "You kissed me. You kissed me and then…you acted like nothing happened."

"It didn't," he laughed, though his brow furrowed, his face adopting a more serious expression. "I don't know what you think happened, Lita. But I never kissed you. You might need to get that head checked, after all – I said you'd taken a bump but you might actually be concussed…" With a scoff, he shook his head and, right then, Lita couldn't help but believe him. Watching his Adam's Apple bob as he swallowed, she frowned, already knowing what he was going to say. "We didn't kiss."

Lita's stomach seemed to turn and her fingers reached to her lips – she could still feel his lips against hers, soft and gentle. Surely, she couldn't have imagined that? Brow furrowed, she shook her head. "We did. You kissed me and then Hunter came in and you said you thought Rob had hit me…" She sounded less certain now, and she cleared her throat. "You kissed me. I know you did."

If Randy was going to reply, his chance was cut short as the door of the locker room swung open, the handle hitting the wall with such force that Lita watched as it dented inwards, white dust and debris falling from where it hit. Hunter, letting out a roar of anger, slammed it closed behind himself and Ric and both Lita and Randy flinched in confusion and horror. "What's up, champ?" Randy asked, watching Hunter with great concern.

"I'll tell you what's up," Hunter seethed, his breathing laboured as he paced the locker room. "Mick Foley has just gone and made the match for your title, that's what's up."

Silence seemed to engulf the room, which felt entirely too stuffy, too crowded, and too tense for the redhead. Hunter's heavy breathing and stomping footsteps echoed throughout the room as she tried to think of something to say. Hadn't Randy just told her he wasn't worried? Why was Hunter so wound up? Randy could do it… But as the Intercontinental Champion sighed and he let out an exhale of, "Fuck", Lita wasn't so sure.

* * *

It had been too much in the locker room – even after Bischoff had announced that Goldberg was suspended or 'out of action' or whatever stupid term he had used, and the evening had gotten much easier for three fifths of the room, the tension had been unbearable. After the match had been over and Ric and Hunter had boasted for over five minutes about how Mick Foley didn't stand a chance, things hadn't cleared and when they returned to the locker room, she had left them with a silent Randy, who hadn't spoken since Hunter had dropped the bombshell. She had bombarded him with questions – both about his upcoming match and his denial of their kiss – yet nothing had moved him and he had closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples as though her very voice was an irritant. Leaving him to be babysat by his elders, Lita slipped from the room, needing to get away from the testosterone-filled getaway. Hunter, Dave and Ric had been pumped after their match and she could only take so much of their 'pep talks' with Randy, even if she highly doubted they would work.

Taking solace in the corridor, the redhead leaned her back against the cool, chrome crates which transported the ring and the rigging to the arena, enjoying the cold nipping at what little skin she had on show. Her skin was mottled with colour, an awful painting of yellows and fading purples, and she had done her best to hide the bruises. _I didn't imagine it_ , she thought, pressing the palm of her hands to the chrome. _I didn't imagine it. It was real and I felt it. He kissed me. So why is he denying it?_ She knew this wasn't what she was supposed to be focusing on right now – she should have been thinking about the match which, whether she wanted to or not, she was going to have to accompany Randy to – yet she couldn't shift the anger and, though she hated to even think of it, the hurt she felt at his denial. How could she walk down that ramp with him and genuinely want him to win when he'd made her feel like an imbecile? _The same way you did when you couldn't stand the sight of him_ , she sighed, running cold hands through her hair.

"You're overreacting," she muttered, shaking her head, and watching as red hair fell in front of her eyes. "It was just a kiss. It wasn't even anything special. It was…" Fuck, it was maddening. She wanted to punch something, to smash her fists into the crates and scream and – and what? What could she do? With another sigh, she accepted her fate. She knew she was right and, soon enough, she would get him to admit it – purely out of principle, she told herself – but for now, she had to focus on this match. She had to be a team player and she had to make sure Randy kept that title.

As she turned to head back along the corridor and into the locker room, a soft, muttering sound grew louder and Lita's head whipped around, the diva unnerved by the voice. It was female, she thought, and as she walked in the direction of it, she was hesitant – it could be a trap, she worried. It could be Molly or Gail or Trish… _It could be anyone and I can't even defend myself…_ But as the owner of the voice rounded the corner, Lita was shocked to see Victoria, muttering to herself and tugging at her hair. Reminded of the kindness the other woman had shown her a couple of weeks back after the steel cage match, Lita continued towards her. "Victoria?" she asked, her voice as soft as she could make it. "Victoria – are you okay?"

The angered screech which left the other woman startled Lita, who jumped. "Okay? Okay?" Victoria's eyes were wide and alert, shifting restlessly as she neared the redhead. "It's all his fault. If he would just give me a title shot…" There was no need to ask who the 'he' in question was but Lita frowned – all of this because of Bischoff? What could he possibly have done? Fired her? "It's a conspiracy. They're all in on it together." But Lita lost track of the other woman's mumblings, and she was barely able to make out snippets of her speech.

"What are you talking about? Who's all in it together?" She'd heard rumours, of course, that Victoria wasn't exactly stable – hell, she'd seen it for herself on a few occasions – but this just seemed over the top. She could barely speak coherently, her hands fisted in her hair – and all because of a title shot?

"Men!" Victoria burst, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Men! They're all in it together – but you'd know all about that!" Snarling, she moved closer to Lita. "You're all safe and cosy up in your ivory tower, men fawning at your feet. You're not so special." She was close now – too close – and Lita could smell her shampoo as she leaned in, their noses touching as the other diva hissed. "You wouldn't think you were so great if you knew – "And with that she pushed herself away, muttering to herself once more, her hand colliding with one of the crates as she stalked off.

"Knew what? Victoria, I don't know what you're talking about. What do I not know?" Lita's voice was shrill, unfamiliar to her ears as she begged the other woman to explain. Things were confusing enough in her life - she didn't need any more disrupt right now and der legs and back protested as she tried to keep up with her colleague, to catch up and demand an answer.

"The real reason you're in Evolution!" And with a cackle to rival any Disney villain, she rushed up the corridor, making unintelligible noises and leaving the redhead thoroughly confused.


End file.
